those were the moments of purification,
when it rebelled,
became conscious of its dignity,
and started a new life,
then everything reverted to normal,
it took up
where it had left
otT,
again gulped down all insults and indignities,
here picked up sludge,
there put it down,
that fine substance of complicated composition,
and allowed
butterflies and bees to alight on it and drink,
when ducks or geese caught sight of it,
they always got excited
and ran toward it with a great clatter,
miraculously their feet were never cut by glass,
the brook served the village well,
it gathered, processed, purified, and passed on
the filth made by man,
but the best part about it
was that one could wade into it barefoot,
build little dams,
skim paper boats,
walk in it the length of the whole village,
investigate the secrets of strange houses,
spy on girls,
pee in it,
and when nobody was looking
take a dip in it.
Translated from the Hungarian
by
Bruce Berlind
with Maria Korosy
