2 poems by Endre Ady

Nov. 22, 1877 was the birthday of Hungarian Symbolist poet Endre Ady who was born in a part of Hungary that is now Romanian territory. He studied law, and later became a journalist in Oradea (also now in Romania). Through his involvement with a married woman who lived in Paris, he became aware of the relative provinciality of his home country and followed her to France. His muse Léda (a reverse spelling of her name Adél Brüll (married name, Mrs. Diósi)) inspired some of his sensual love poems, altogether an improvement over his youthful Sturm und Drang efforts…

Gradually he became a Modernist through exposure to the art circles in Paris and he started writing poems alternating between spleen and speed:

Autumn Passed through Paris

Autumn sliped into Paris yesterday,
came silently down Boulevard St Michel,
In sultry heat, past boughs sullen and still,
and met me on its way.

As I walked on to where the Seine flows by,
little twig songs burned softly in my heart,
smoky, odd, sombre, purple songs. I thought
they sighed that I shall die.

Autumn drew abreast and whispered to me,
Boulevard St Michel that moment shivered.
Rustling, the dusty, playful leaves quivered,
whirled forth along the way.

One moment: summer took no heed: whereon,
laughing, autumn sped away from Paris.
That it was here, I alone bear witness,
under the trees that moan.

***

Benediction from a Train

The express is hurtling at full speed,
the sun explodes into the sea,
my memories flash a millisecond,
and I bless you.

“May God bless
all your goodness,
your unresponsiveness,
and all your wickedness.
May your words of torment
return to you in benediction.
May your coldness
leap into flames.
All is at an end.
I have a thousand cares,
and for my folly
the bier is spread.
Well, I bless you,
and meanwhile
kiss me softly,
in silence and peace.
I wish to leave you
with a memory and a kiss
to freeze for warmth,
to be alone,
to feel alone,
to die alone.
May God bless you.”

The express is hurtling at full speed,
the sun explodes into the sea,
my memories flash a millisecond,
and I bless you.

Ady was against the war mongering forces in the Austro-Hungarian Empire and wrote pacifist poems during WW I. He suffered a stroke near the end of the war, and died in 1919 from pneumonia and weakened health as a result of alcoholism.

I like to add another poem of him which is my favorite. FE

* * *

Who come from far away

We are the men who are always late,
we are the men who come from far away.
Our walk is always weary and sad,
we are the men who are always late.
We do not even know how to die in peace.
When the face of distant death appears,
our souls splash into a tam tam of flame.
We do not even know how to die in peace.
We are the men who are always late.
We are never on time with our success,
our dreams, our heaven, or our embrace.
We are the men who are always late.

Endre Ady