ADY ENDRE
THE POET WHO WANTED TO BE A HERALD OF THE NEW LIFE

Last summer my family travelled to Oradea /Nagyvárad/.. It touched me to see the town   which was a part of Hungary at one time./ Now it belongs to Romania./. This year we learnt  about Endre Ady, to whom this town played an important part in his life.   It was a special feeling to sit down in the cafe where he used to drink wine. At this moment it came to my mind that I would write about Ady who was said to be one of   the greatest poets in Hungary. His poems were written in Hungarian, he loved and also  criticised the country, because he would have liked to make it better. I wonder whether his name is known in Romania or not?! Are his poems taught in schools? In Hungary this is one of the most important themes in final  examination at the secondary schools.


Ady was born in Érmindszent, 1877 and he died in Budapest, 1919. His father\'s name is   Lőrinc Ady, and his mother\'s name is Mária Pásztor.  He studied in Érmindszent, Nagykároly and Zilah. Then he lived in Debrecen, where he  studied low at the university. He fall in love with Mrs. Dióssy Adél. He was the first poet in   Hungarian lyric poetry. In his versification he changed irregularity into regularity. His poems  were published in periodical Nyugat. It was the most important forum of the modern  literature. The symbolism deals with finding the unknown parts of soul. His public part was a poet-proplet. He criticised the backwardness and was afraid of national disaster.  Ady was anti-war and poems showed his patriotism. Fortunately my favourite poem is translated in English so you can enjoy it, too.



THE LOST RIDER

We hear the blind and aimless galloping
Of an errant rider from the days gome by:
The shackled souls of sunken forests moan
As ancient marshes waken with a sigh.

Where here and there the thickets, coppices
Are choked in patches, densely in a strife,
The spectres of the ancient wintry tales
Are now awakened to a sudden life.

Here are the thickets, here the coppices.
Here are the dismal tunes of bygone choirs:
They have been hidden in a murky fog
Since martial times of our grim, gallant sires.

Dreary and haunted are the autumn days,
The people numbert less and always less;
And on the hill-surrounded swampy plain
November walks encloaked in foggy dress.

The naked plain begins quite suddenly
To nurture reeds and marsh of rotten trees,
Concealing its November foggy self
In gloomy mists of bygone centuries.

Nothing but blood, nothing but mystery,
Nothing but pressures, forefathers mystify;
Nothing but forests, marshes, reeds and canes,
Nothing but madmen of the days gone by.

The errant rider from the long ago
Follows the path along the recent swale;
There is mo light, there are no burning lamps,
There are no villages along the trail.

The villages are mutely slumbering,
Freezing they dream of bygones in their lair
As from the foggy thickets rush and fun
The bison, wolf and, ragingly, the bear.

We hear the blind and aimless galloping
Of an errant rider from the days gone by;
The shackled souls of sunken forests moan
As ancient marshes waken with a sigh.


ADY ENDRE

AZ ELTÉVEDT LOVAS

Vak ügetését hallani
Eltévedt, hajdani lovasnak,
Volt erdők és ó-nádasok
Láncolt lelkei riadoznak.

Hol foltokban imitt-amott
Ős sűrűből bozót rekedt meg,
Most hirtelen téli mesék
Rémei kielevenednek.

Itt van a sűrű, a bozót,
Itt van a régi, tompa nóta,
Mely a süket ködben lapult
Vitéz, bús nagyapáink óta.

Kísértetes nálunk az Ősz
S fogyatkozott számú az ember:
S a dombkerítéses síkon
Köd-gubában jár a November.

Erdővel, náddal, pőre sík
Benőtteti hirtelen, újra
Novemberes, ködös magát
Mult századok ködébe bujva.

Csupa vérzés, csupa titok,
Csupa nyomások, csupa ősök,
Csupa erdők és nádasok,
Csupa hajdani eszelősök.

Hajdani, eltévedt utas
Vág neki új hináru utnak,
De nincsen fény, nincs lámpa-láng
És hírük sincsen anfaluknak.

Alusznak némán a faluk,
Multat álmodván dideregve,
S a köd-bozótból kirohan
Ordas, bölény s nagymérgü medve.

Vak ügetését hallni
Hajdani, eltévedt lovasnak,
Volt erdők és ó-nádasok
Láncolt lelkei riadoznak.

He is dove (anti-war).
The rider who lost his way is our country, Hungary and he doesn\'t find the right way.
The war claims only blood, tears and rictims. It\'s foolish.


MAGYAR JAKOBINUS DALA

Ujjunk begyéből vér serken ki,
Mikor téged tapogatunk,
Te álmos, szegény Magyarország,
Vajjon vagy-e és mink vagyunk?

Vajjon lehet-e jobbra várni?
Szemünk és lelkünk fáj bele,
Vajjon fölébred valahára
A szolga-népek Bábele?

Ezer zsibbadt vágyból mért nem lesz
Végül egy erős akarat?
Hiszen magyar, oláh, szláv bánat
Mindigre egy bánat marad.

Hiszen gyalázatunk, keservünk
Már ezer év óta rokon.
Mért nem találkozunk süvöltve
Az eszme-barrikádokon?

Dunának, Oltnak egy a hangja,
Morajos, halk, halotti hang.
Árpád hazájában jaj annak,
Aki nem úr és nem bitang.

Mikor fogunk már összefogni?
Mikor mondunk már egy nagyot,
Mi, elnyomottak, összetörtek,
Magyarok és nem-magyarok?

Meddig lesz még úr a betyárság
És pulya had mi, milliók?
Magyarország népe meddig lesz
Kalitkás seregély-fiók?

Bús koldusok Magyarországa,
Ma se hitünk, se kenyerünk.
Holnap már minden a mienk lesz,
Hogyha akarunk, ha merünk.

Hungarian Jacobeans
-the small people have to unite and had each other a telping hand
-the joint problem demand joint solring to make a happy world.

I think, Ady is one of the biggest poets, not only in the 20th country, but in the Whole Hungarian literature too. He wrote in his verses against the wars and  Hate. I think, if we had \"an Ady\" present days, who could write from the actual Problems, people could much more better understand and accept the world  and each other. My favourite poem is \'The lost rider\', because I agree with its beautiful thoughts. I hope I can visit again Oradea, and I think, other people should do that- if they can do it-,   because it helps to understand Ady\'s wonderful  poems.

Dorottya Heintz
Berze Nagy János Gimnázium