Poems by Dénes Krusovszky

Elegynoise


As if a rusted centrifuge spun
inside me, clashed a gasp,
I wrung out the stains
of our last days together.


But how could I escape you
when even your clothes spoke to me?
Some of them declaimed
angrily rebounding rhymes,
some whispered in dark cadences,
some endlessly screamed obscenities.


My ears still ring with the head-voice
of a violet blouse that shouts:
Tear me limb from limb, you coward shit!
At the time I stood there, holding back,
later I set out for a louder noise.




Elegynoise


Day never dawns, it’s always dawning,
and through this dim obscurity
behind our yellow curtain
I sit waiting for your silhouette below.


Is the moon somehow involved
in this high tide of dirty cobblestones,
or do my overtired eyes invent
a continuous rise and fall?


I leaned over the mash-tun once
to inhale the promising odor of decay.
So I wait, but day will never dawn again.

(Translated by Genevieve Arlie)


​
The spring 


In the irrevocable
melting you dragged
yourself like a deserter
along the bloodtrail,
so this is the last day
of winter, you asked
arriving in a clearing
where snowflowers bloomed
from mud patches, but still
the wind bore the smell of carrion,
so this would be my past,
the chattering branches,
the red dots on white background,
and you spotted
from behind a bush the deer
emerging to appease its thirst,
and saw as it bent forward
the wound bleeding from its side,
you lowered your rifle
and stepped closer, much closer,
so this is the spring of my future,
then it looked upon you
and said, yes. 


The wife


That light still
falls inside
the garden, is baffling,
as the sky had already turned
dark, an unfamiliar 
fat lady approached
in your dream,
spread her arms
and embraced you,
almost scratched your skin
with her nails,
but I don’t know you
you said, drawing
away from her, oh, 
yes you do, she replied,
I am your wife,
then you searched
the last patches 
of sunlight and quickly
hung out the bloody
sheets from last night.
​
(Translated by Chad Campbell)

Dénes Krusovszky (1982, Debrecen). He was one of the founders of the Telep (’Settlement’) poets’ group (2005-2009). Krusovszky published seven books so far in different genres from poetry and fiction to children’s poetry and essays. His poetry collection Elromlani milyen (2009) had been translated to German (Wie schön das Kaputtgehen ist, 2011), Swedish (Att Gå Sönder Är Så, Rámus, 2015) and Romanian (Când te strici, Charmides, 2017). Krusovszky is also the editor-in-chief of the poetry website Versum (versumonline.hu). He received numerous awards in Hungary including the József Attila prize in 2013. He lives and works in Vienna and Budapest.

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