Nem én kiáltok <br /> <br /> <br />No shriek of mine, it is the earth that thunders. <br />Beware, beware, Satan has gone insane; <br />cling to the clean dim floors of the translucent springs, <br />melt yourself to the plate glass, <br />hide behind the diamond's glittering, <br />beneath the stones, the beetle's twittering, <br />O sink yourself within the smell of fresh-baked bread, <br />poor wretched one, poor wretch. <br />Ooze with the fresh showers into the rills of earth-- <br />in vain you bathe your own face in your self, <br />it can be cleansed only in that of others. <br />Be the tiny blade upon the grass: <br />greater than the spindle of the whole world's mass. <br />O you machines, birds, tree-branches, constellations! <br />Our barren mother cries out for a child. <br />My friend, you dear, you most beloved friend, <br />whether it comes in horror or in grandeur, <br />it is no shriek of mine, but the earth's thunder.<br /><br />Attila Jozsef<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-shriek-of-mine/
