Roland Orcsik
Roland Orcsik Poems
I.
A documentary about Csontváry:
beginning-of-century photos, reproductions,
developing Budapest, frayed fallows.
...
I sat on a trunk
close to the flow of Tisza.
The brownish green
river carried sediment.
...
C sharp minor enters the chambers
of the ear like a coffin en-
ters the food chain of the earth
grass grows in its trace as hair
...
After each performance Mahler
used to sip two glasses of
Pilsner (no more no less)
with his chaps at Pri Roži Inn.
...
„In Necropolis music blew"
Endre Ady, Moving from Damn-City
...
The Adagietto slowly stirs
permeating the Viennese Fall;
in its trace, we wade through leaves;
fading time won't hinder us.
...
I rode my bike when
the kind, large-sized postman
shouted after me and
drew letters of Mahler from his bag.
...
Travel nowhere.
I'd mew myself up and down Paris all the same
like I do here still in the heart of my room.
Now, shall I leave the cosy
...
Roland Orcsik Biography
Roland Orcsik is born in Becse (Voivodina, Serbia) in 1975. Since ’92 he lives in Szeged (Hungary). In 2002 he finished his studys (Hungarian language and literaure), after which he started his PhD-studys (comparative literature). He works at the University of Szeged Institute of Slavonic Studies. Writes poetry, essays, critiques and translates from Ex-Yugoslavian languages into Hungarian. So far he published three books of poems: Rozsdamaró (Rub the rust off, 2002), Holdnak, Arccal (To the Moon with Face, 2007), Mahler letöltve (Mahler downloaded, 2011), the last one is translated into Serbian (Skinuti Maler, 2013). His poems are translated in English, Croatian, Romanian, Slovenian and Serbian languages.)
The Best Poem Of Roland Orcsik
Flood
I.
A documentary about Csontváry:
beginning-of-century photos, reproductions,
developing Budapest, frayed fallows.
On a black-and-white snapshot Szeged
sank underwater, the city had been thrifty,
deemed the regulation of Tisza expensive.
The river's fury swallowed
up the countless smeared stories.
The surviving rest is yellow-stained.
II.
The canvas is filling up with new music.
Melodious blue gurgling,
the cattle are gathering at the watering hole,
colors flood the screen,
vast boulders from Tátra,
slow strings in the shade of the Cedar,
into a red spring sinks the white one,
the parched air drinks up
the green, dissolving with the horns.
The waterfall in Jajce wails:
the rest of the canvas is yellow-stained,
just like the sky above Mostar.
Translated by Zoltán Lengyel
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