Vol. 67 No. 4 2000 - page 607

A thousand dentures and postal cunning
conspire against me, so please, tell,
where is my wife? worries the man,
where are my boots, my horse, my rhapsodies?
He stands around in a rough hemp shirt,
it's a pit of forget-me-nots he sees, but
the raspberry growing on his chest
does not attract the trackless bees.
Translated from the Hungarian
by
Paul Sohar
DICK BARNES
Geneva,
19
I
6
A glance along the table,
light words, heady laughter,
the possibly deliberate
pressure of an ankle,
a possible innuendo
in clever things she said :
one thing led to another,
and she led him to her bed.
It seemed to him a conquest
though she were oh so willing;
but after a night with her
he woke up in the morning
to find that she had done it
as a favor to his father.
She, his father's mistress.
He felt "unstable as water,"
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