KINGA FABÓ
THE TRANSFIGURATION OF
THE WORD
Open, the sea appeared
asleep.
Carrying its waves.
A pulse under the muted winter scene.
Throwing a smile on the beach.
A nun-spot on the hot little body.
A color on the broken glass.
A gesture that was once closed.
Lovely as the sea stood up.
Throwing a smile on the beach.
I wanted to remain an object.
But, no, immortality is not mine.
I am too strong to defend myself.
Waiting for punishment.
This and the same happened together.
Silently, I sat in the glass.
Only the spot wandered on the naked scene.
Sounds did not continue.
Only an omitted gesture.
Happiness like an unmoving dancer.
Beatings on naked, bony back.
And the sea will no longer be immortal.
Carrying its waves.
A pulse under the muted winter scene.
Throwing a smile on the beach.
A nun-spot on the hot little body.
A color on the broken glass.
A gesture that was once closed.
Lovely as the sea stood up.
Throwing a smile on the beach.
I wanted to remain an object.
But, no, immortality is not mine.
I am too strong to defend myself.
Waiting for punishment.
This and the same happened together.
Silently, I sat in the glass.
Only the spot wandered on the naked scene.
Sounds did not continue.
Only an omitted gesture.
Happiness like an unmoving dancer.
Beatings on naked, bony back.
And the sea will no longer be immortal.
(Translated by Zsuzsanna Ozsváth and Martha Satz)
Kinga Fabó
ISADORA DUNCAN DANCING
Like sculpture at first.
Then, as if the sun rose in her, long
gesture.
A small smile; then very
much so.
The beauty
of the rite shone;
whirling.
She whirled and whirled,
flaming.
Only the body spoke. The
body carried her
language.
Her dance a spell
swirling the air, a spiral
she was
and
her shawl, the half circle
around her,
the curve of the sea-shore
and
girl,
the dancer and the dance
apart…
(Trascreated by Cathy Strisik and Veronica Golos based
on Katalin N. Ullrich’s translation.)
Fabó Kinga
A FÜL
Mintha egy szentélyhez
járulnának, úgy
jönnek, jönnek a füleimhez.
Még jó,
hogy szép nagy füleim
vannak.
Mélyek, öblösek.
Jönnek a csípő- és kebelméretek.
Jön a magányos. Neki a
férjem kell.
Jön a családanya. Ő férjezett, frigid.
Ha éppen nem jön, nyelveket
tanul, meg utazik.
A leszbikus? Ő el se jön. Pedig őt
elcsábítanám. Jobb híján a
fülem
hegyezné önmagát. (Jó
nagy.)
Nőies nőt elvből nem hívok meg.
Férfiakat sem. Hozzájuk
én megyek.
De nekik is csak a füleim
kellenek.
És a szájak? Be nem állnak.
És a fülem? A fülem, az
néma.
Csak a fülbevalómat
cserélem néha.
A fülemet, azt nem hagyom.
Kinga Fabó
POISON
I don't know what it is but
very ill-
intended. Sure a woman
belongs.
And something like a
laughter.
I am rotating the city on
me,
rotating my beauty. That's
that!
Many keys, small keyholes
whirling.
Gazes cannot be all in
vain. And the answer?
Merely a jeer.
The vase hugs me, killing,
can't breathe.
Now my features - even with
the best intentions -
cannot be claimed as a
beauty.
And she? The girl? Her
smarty perfume
is Poison. For me a real
poison indeed.
And the vase?
His hugging kills me.
But what am I to do
without?
(Translated by me.)
Kinga Fabó
ABSTRACTIONS
Something’s gone wrong
between us.
Something that's never
existed.
How come so insidiously?
So that I wasn’t even there
at all?
The same way. It’s always
the same
way. He’s good, he never
inflicts
wounds. The other him? His
own
light makes him shiver.
Wicked, gothic lace-trimmed
neck. Ugly
posture, hopeful-cautious
nakedness.
Infertile woman. How trite!
Too much and too little at
the same time.
Little abstractions! I’ve
composed
you all. It’s not very
funny to
compose this way. It’s in
fact like a
great big overstatement.
Like love.
The two children, who not
for me -
touched me deeply. Of
course,
I didn’t show it. For want
of better I
lived the part of the
beautiful woman.
(Translated by Katalin N. Ullrich)
Kinga Fabó
Country of Origin: Hungary
Place of living: Budapest, Hungary
Nationality: Hungarian
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