Farewell to My Friends
Pehotny Yorick brothers-but-in-law
You amble arm-in-arm and soon embark
One for his misty slate-blue Elsinore
And one for Petersburg before the dark
But crows have one crow language nothing else
The Danish ones sick up the 'r's of course
While Russians often speak with softened 'l's
And suffixed 'ka's except when showing force
But spring is kind to Russians and to Danes
When icicles like badly shaken cocks
Go dribbling in the dawn and leave their stains
Above the Neva and the city blocks
Where sausages mean hours in a queue
Still kinder is the dusk in Elsinore
The best time for a sizzling barbecue
Although a portion costs a penny more
Than Yorick finds inside his sorry purse
Perhaps that penny piece would not be missed
If he had gone beyond Horatian verse
And knew say Móricz the great novelist
Yorick Stepan has life been champion
Or have you found it bearable at least
Take heart you may have missed the Pantheon
But haven't missed the Woman at her feast
Farewell my friends good brothers whom I chose
You have betrayed my secrets great and small
But there's one secret you could not disclose
The Greatest One that's no secret at all
Translated by Peter Zollman
From 'Selected Poems' by István Baka