POEMS
Three Poems by Gyorgy Petri
NEWS SUMMARY
Softly accumulating like fluff
in stair corners, an epoch's filth.
TO BULCSU BERTHA, WITH PROFOUND RESPECT
In Hungary there are no poor people.
In Hungary the temporarily-stationed poor people
are not Hungarians. The kind of Hungarians who
may have joined them (see under 'Youth,' 'Alcoholics') will
anyway be amputated from the body of the nation.
In Hungary there are rich people. However these
are going to be taxed, gutted, expropriated.
This won't bring us more, but they'll have less.
Jolly good show.
In Hungary there aren't any people.
Just swarms of Hungary-uns. Against these
no measures (cheerfully instituted) are taken.
Are the authorities asleep,
heads purpled on branding inkpad pillows?
Translated from the Hungarian by Kenneth McRobbie
