You Have to Give It Up by Endre Kukorelly

You Have to Give It Up 

by Endre Kukorelly

Translated by Michael Castro and Gabor G. Gyukics

 

Soon you have to give it up. The body

and the heart and things, and the soul, too.

The soul flies up. Up, where. Soon you have

to give it up. The body leaves you.

Aches, falls, loosens. Aches, burns, burns

comes to an end, bone, the body flows away. How

easy it is. It leaves you.

You leave it, easier than you leave the street, a

bench, a glove, the sight of

pouring rain, the sobbing of it. The flowing rain.

Finally, the pain leaves, steps away. It won’t be worse.

It’s not worse, that’s it. Or it’s not cruel.

It rather might be sad—what isn’t?

The fallen fruit. Fragment.

For example, the sound doesn’t emerge. It sits far in

the back. Sat in the back. It sat in the back of a bus.

Sat back. To grieve. Or to run down. Thinking

it will run you down easier. Or

why. Why.

Soon you

have to give that up too.

 

A collection of Endre Kukorelly's poetry entitled My God, How Many Mistakes I've Made was published by Singing Bone Press in Gabor G Gyukics's and Michael Castro's translation.

14 december 2020

HLO HU