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Dove, Rita: Silos

Portre of Dove, Rita

Silos (English)

Like martial swans in spring paraded against the city sky's
shabby blue, they were always too white and
suddenly there.

They were never fingers, never xylophones, although once
a stranger said they put him in mind of Pan's pipes
and all the lost songs of Greece. But to the townspeople
they were like cigarettes, the smell chewy and bitter
like a field shorn of milkweed, or beer brewing, or
a fingernail scorched over a flame.

No, no, exclaimed the children. They're a fresh packet of chalk,
dreading math work.

They were masculine toys. They were tall wishes. They
were the ribs of the modern world.



Uploaded byP. T.
Source of the quotationhttp://mypage.siu.edu

Rakétasilók (Hungarian)

Mint harcias hattyúk átparádézva tavasszal a város
kopottas kék égboltján, mindig túl fehérek voltak
s hirtelen teremtek ott.

Sosem voltak ujjak, xilofonok, bár egyszer
egy idegen azt mondta, hogy egyszer pánsípok
elméjébe vezették, hol ott volt Göröghon minden elveszett dallama.
De a városlakók szerint inkább cigarettákra hasonlítottak,
s illatuk keserű volt, mint a gyomoktól megtisztított szántóföldé,
az erjedő söré, vagy a láng felett megperzselődött körömé.

Nem, nem, magyarázták a gyerekek. Olyanok, mint egy friss
csomagnyi kréta, mi ijesztő a matematika házifeladathoz.

Fiús játékok voltak, magasra nőtt vágyak.
A modern világ bordái.



Uploaded byP. T.
Source of the quotationhttp://7torony.hu

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