If you set out in this world, better be born seven times. Once, in a house on fire, once, in a freezing flood, once, in a wild madhouse, once, in a field of ripe wheat, once, in an empty cloister, and once among pigs in sty. Six babes crying, not enough: you yourself must be the seventh.
When you must fight to survive, let your enemy see seven. One, away from work on Sunday, one, starting his work on Monday, one, who teaches without payment, one, who learned to swim by drowning, one, who is the seed of a forest, and one, whom wild forefathers protect, but all their tricks are not enough: you yourself must be the seventh.
If you want to find a woman, let seven men go for her. One, who gives heart for words, one, who takes care of himself, one, who claims to be a dreamer, one, who through her skirt can feel her, one, who knows the hooks and snaps, one, who steps upon her scarf: let them buzz like flies around her. You yourself must be the seventh.
If you write and can afford it, let seven men write your poem. One, who builds a marble village, one, who was born in his sleep, one, who charts the sky and knows it, one, whom words call by his name, one, who perfected his soul, one, who dissects living rats. Two are brave and four are wise; You yourself must be the seventh.
And if all went as was written, you will die for seven men. One, who is rocked and suckled, one, who grabs a hard young breast, one, who throws down empty dishes, one, who helps the poor win; one, who worked till he goes to pieces, one, who just stares at the moon. The world will be your tombstone: you yourself must be the seventh.
József Attila
Original version (Hungarian)
A hetedik
E világon ha ütsz tanyát, hétszer szűljön meg az anyád! Egyszer szűljön égő házban, egyszer jeges áradásban, egyszer bolondok házában, egyszer hajló, szép búzában, egyszer kongó kolostorban, egyszer disznók közt az ólban. Fölsír a hat, de mire mégy? A hetedik te magad légy!
Ellenség ha elődbe áll, hét legyen, kit előtalál. Egy, ki kezdi szabad napját, egy, ki végzi szolgálatját, egy, ki népet ingyen oktat, egy, kit úszni vízbe dobtak, egy, ki magva erdőségnek, egy, kit őse bőgve védett, csellel, gánccsal mind nem elég, – a hetedik te magad légy!
Szerető után ha járnál, hét legyen, ki lány után jár. Egy, ki szivet ad szaváért, egy, ki megfizet magáért, egy, ki a merengőt adja, egy, ki a szoknyát kutatja, egy, ki tudja, hol a kapocs, egy, ki kendőcskére tapos, – dongják körül, mint húst a légy! A hetedik te magad légy.
Ha költenél s van rá költség, azt a verset heten költsék. Egy, ki márványból rak falut, egy, ki mikor szűlték, aludt, egy, ki eget mér és bólint, egy, kit a szó nevén szólít, egy, ki lelkét üti nyélbe, egy, ki patkányt boncol élve. Kettő vitéz és tudós négy, – a hetedik te magad légy.
S ha mindez volt, ahogy írva, hét emberként szállj a sírba. Egy, kit tejes kebel ringat, egy, ki kemény mell után kap, egy, ki elvet üres edényt, egy, ki győzni segít szegényt, egy, ki dolgozik bomolva, egy, aki csak néz a Holdra: Világ sírköve alatt mégy! A hetedik te magad légy.
My friend Sharrow told me that she sees relationships between my stuff “Wish” and this poem by J.Attila; she also proposed me a different translation of the last verse of each stanza: “You to be the seventh, yourself!”; really I like more her versione.
She also shared me a song using Attila’s poem as lyric, this one.
I think this interesting Hungarian poet should be better known!
When the night quickly comes like a ghost, a dark velvet or silence, old veil often bringing us pain memories … I wish to be your wish and desire
When the moon rises so large and white like a girl in love yet pure and chaste and we feel to be such a poor thing … I too wish to be wish and desire
When my purple spreads through all my neck and my cheeks and elsewhere too there where you want to touch my shy skin … I must be your wish and your desire
When the fog deletes trees and each thing in this world and we are like blind cats without home, with no sense and no hope … I want to be your wish and desire
When the death strikes so hard just near us stealing from us what we need so much and I shiver with fear and with cold … I need to be your wish and desire
January, 1st 2022
My dear friend Terry made this beautiful photo after she read my words:
Give me reward again in the night when it’s dark and I hug you and my skin waits for you like a poor parched pool to find peace at least for only an instant
Making love, tremors fill all my flesh shaking it in my chest, belly and everywhere. So, I burn, sacrifice to that life really mattering, true
Give me you, all you and not just some: give me your hands and mouth. Your mind be with me only one, only substance to show that I can truly exist
Take me quite as I am, take my evil and the good which I can: it’s so little. I am as a well, hole, a basin, pool restless and edgy shorn of its fullness
Give me your eyes and thus let me see where you look at the end of each thing, there where all starts and all can begin, there where lives God who made us alive
Let I can grow again and hold up this my body and my spirit, tired after years of great sloth and great pride.
Father That’s a song by Claudio Chieffo, where God talks with a woman; I tried this traslation:
You didn’t know how I’d call you the face that I gave you, the story that you lived you did not know it yet, you did not know it yet …
When in your prime you did play to be a woman near the door of your old house I was preparing for your life so great things that you didn’t know yet, that you didn’t know yet, that you didn’t know yet …
Then you could know the pain, that takes away things tastes, but fills so much the words, colours the words with life, at that time you lived it, at that time you lived it at that time you lived it …
Then I gave you that my real love so unpretentious and great, so that your pain could became more bearable and your love infinite, and your love infinite, and your love infinite…
Now I want you here with me: you haven’t to be afraid, you have to let you go, each thing comes true just now, each thing comes true just now, each thing comes true just …
… now here darkness no longer exists, there’s the light in the eyes of God, there’s the peace in the hands of God, there’s the joy in the heart of God!
December, 19th 2021
Goodbye, mom! Please say hello to dad and to your brothers for me.
I’m that one who now sleeps on the grass near the heat of the fire freeing our body and mind from cold thoughts where so often each one can get lost
Both a shepherd or woman, doesn’t matter we are the same deep down in our Mankind strange and fickle and now very tired fighting between emotions and reason
I’m that one and he sleeps near the warmth of all common and usual safe things I sleep while all the universe changes while light and its true sense is being born
They say that the crib is from Benino’s (*) dream and that he sees all our Earth change its shape and substance and essence up to be like a new paradise
Yet I’m that one who sleeps: I’m distracted by my standard and permanent sloth or by a sudden one that can reach me just here while each thing resurrects
If You want, take me out from these weird shadow days chasing gloomy solstices while this cold rules all my queer odd world: I’ll become what I am: only answer
December, 11th 2021
* Benino is a character of the Neapolitan nativity scene: he is the sleeper.
As a window of spring, some Great tits came again near my home and now chirp whilst my time runs to solstice, when dark wins each day against light, more and more
As a window of spring your green eyes came again near my face and my lips met your mouth, in the dark, before that sleep won against my mind and my hands
We need windows of spring in the life where we run toward dark, pain and death. Green grass, trees, Tits and you are refrains in the song of my life made by God
The skin of the angels 