Lowry, Malcolm: Roderick Usher (Roderick Usher in Hungarian)
Roderick Usher (English)Roderick Usher rose at six And found his house in a hell of a fix. He made the coffe and locked the door, And then said, what have I done that for? But had poured himself a hell of a snort Before he could find any kind of retort, And poured himself a jigger of rum Before he heard the familiar hum Of his matutinal delirium Whose voices, imperious as a rule, Were sharper today, as if at school: Today, young Usher, you’re going to vote. Said Roderick, that’s a hell of a note. So he packed his bag full of vintage rare, His house fell down but he didn’t care And took the nine-thirty to Baltimore And was murdered, promptly, at half past four.
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Roderick Usher (Hungarian)Roderick Usher hatkor ébredt, Szeme a házban bajra révedt. Kávét főzött, bezárkózott. – Hát ezt minek? – ógott-mógott. De felelni végre magán míg-erőt vett, Lehajtott elébb egy méregerőset. Majd lecsúszott rá egy kupica rum, S hallotta, zeng már a matutinum, A jól ismert hajnali delírium. A hang, mely amúgy is mindig goromba, Élesebb ma, mint diákkoromba': – Szedd magad, Usher, a nép szavazik. – Micsoda jó hír! – így Roderick. Elvitte magával a java borát, Bánta is ő a háza porát. Fölült a délire, Baltimore-ba, S fél ötkor kinyúlt, agyonszúrva.
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