Concerns

 
It would have been nice to travel far on the ship that conquered the Universe.
To feel and know earth-shattering,
With soul-changing music May my beloved be with me, to make me rejoice
And share my sorrow,
And feel how my sorrowing heart should ring for her.

The silent change of seasons warns me, and is ever on the watch:
I must prepare for the real. On the gloomy veil of restless nights the pendulum,
I am often awakened to the death-clacking minutes.
As one whose grave and now unpardonable transgression,
of coward and man in all ages stuck.

The world must be long accustomed to the petty,
and it may seem that something will never change:
The man that would be friends or acquainted is beaten to a pulp.
His soul, eager to be mischievous
Is always feeling its loss, and bears with its passing.

The initiative of the avant-garde, the artists of the form, has won in vain
the prizes of euros and forints
in competitions, the prophets and freethinkers are marginalised,
that they do not even enter into compromising bargains and loyalty-hurting contracts.
- I see now how in fearful wrath the shameful envy may break down the law,
that they alone may share in earthly goods,
who to certain circles have been from time immemorial a traitorous debtor.

They can not see how the degenerate daily struggles
of a grown child, a filthy virgin.
A dissonant corpse of lasting value,
and we with it have escaped our share.
Torn apart by delusional, brainwashed thoughts,
and throw a whole intellectual community into the abyss for no other reason,
because they owe a debt of submission to the fads that create new trends.
I wonder when everyone can own forever,
instead of a multiplicity of no-man's-land, brainwashed sermons
of the earth to unite in harmony?!