Category: VOLUME III, No. 6

1956-63: MY FIRST YEARS IN OXFORD

My interest in the English language goes back to 1947 when at the age of thirteen my mother sent me to Sárospatak to learn the tongue of Shakespeare. This was an excellent Calvinist grammar school (gimnázium) in North-East Hungary with a long-standing tradition of teaching English (quite a few of

ILLYÉS – BARTÓK (ELVIS)

1 On 14 June 1982, a statue of Béla Bartók was dedicated in Paris. The bronze sculpture by Imre Varga, of which several versions exist, was a gift from Budapest to the City of Paris on the occasion of the naming of a public area in the 15th arrondissement after

GYULA ILLYÉS: BARTÓK

BARTÓK Gyula Illyés “Harsh discord?” – Yes! They think it thuswhich brings us solace! Yes! Let the violin strings,let singing throats learn curse-clatter of splintering glasscrashing to the ground the screen of raspwedged in the teeth of buzzing saw; – let there be no peace, no gaietyin gilded, lofty far

POET BETWEEN LANGUAGES: ÁDÁM MAKKAI

From time to time Hungarians will speak with great pride of the many Hungarian scientists and artists who have won international fame. One thinks perhaps first and foremost of physicians (Ignác Semmelweis or Albert Szent-Györgyi), physicists (John von Neumann), mathematicians (Paul Erdős), and musicians (Béla Bartók, Zoltán Kodály). The case

POEMS BY ADAM MAKKAI

Learn How to Read For I know well enough a time will come when we will have to crawl back along the roads we hastened over, I take this knife of words (the sharpest blade of all) and make a mark in every tree that sheds its tears around me,

A NOTE TO HEAD TONY BRINKLEY’S GOMORRAH

I am reading and re-reading Tony Brinkley’s Gomorrah. A long poem, which remains mostly oblique and mysterious when we read it for the first time. Palpably concrete in its images and sensations, yet mysterious. Yet we do read on. The surface is fascinating, yet we feel with certainty that there is

GOMORRAH

I was thinking of the day most splendid till I saw what the not-day exhibited.– WALT WHITMAN 1. Balancing the wind gusts – the gold pointless, ground to powder – Here in heaven on the border of a field a meadow where the stones grow tracing fire. The arrival of three