IMRE ORAVECZ
Water
The brook originated in the Dolina
and flowed through the village,
it cut past the end of the courtyards
and ran just below the gardens,
haystacks, pigsties, plum trees, and elder bushes stood on its banks,
it didn't meander,
but it wasn't straight either,
it turned right and left,
diligently avoided the choked-up deposits
around rusty pots and dead cats,
otherwise it wasn't choosy,
it admitted and digested everything,
bathtub water as well as dung water or mash,
bedded down with everything
in a liquid state,
threw itself eagerly into every chemical process,
its water was usually shallow,
sometimes clear,
sometimes black,
in the coves,
where the current was weak,
it seemed stationary,
a thin, gray film formed on it,
it was like a cataract on the eye,
only creased,
sometimes, in summer, it all but dried up,
but during a snowmelt or heavy rainfall it suddenly flooded
and surged angrily toward its nearby destination,
the Tarna,
