KINGA FABO

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.)

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 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]