Translated from the Hungarian by Kevin Nolan

A sentence followed me, a long and wordless shape,
     the negative of sign and silence, all possible sentences
sounded there: I slept more soundly for it, followed it on
     tiptoe, heard no other, condensing raindrops e to mc 2
a lifelong sentence tracing back creation
     so deep I couldn’t sound its depth
this secret sequence, beginning with the gasmain
     in its wired enclosure metering the
sentence where I saw your eyes or glimpsed my son
     quite liquid, mirror-tongues across his changing skin
drawn in towards the onward, shining stream, the iris crypt
     of sentences, this sentence, commencing or continuing

A sentence followed me, long wordless shape the
     chrsyalid of deepest heartvalve, untried wing
—film ravelling a mansion’s length of winding streets,
     the cutting of my days, a mauvine slip unfurling as the
sentence curled the soothing breeze or murmurs through the rain
     of speech, and underneath its words or hidden by a face—
sometimes I hear it right away and only need one word—
     the curve a single letter makes on empty sheets,
is where? that sentence heard when I am wakened by its nightly
     pulse afar, flashing its asides- is this
the sentence, sliding down tectonic palates
     or not this sentence but some other, always otherwise

A sentence grew the deepest scar, no memory
     below the sweet-skinned sleep said wake now, wake now
sentence, tracking wordless searing hatred
     spinning in the flesh and wanting none—
no pause or rest or passing come to birth
     a soundless sentence spoke by no one, none to hear,
sounds the cardial nightclock out of time
     in empty gravelled courtyards sounds the chained-up dog,
the sentence pulsing like the sea within a scuttled hull
     glistens in the berries of a dream to murmur wake now, wake now,
the shoreless stormcry carried off by blinding waters,
     the measured tambour threading sea to moon

A sentence short or long wordless tune—
     you hear its rustle when you run
then stop, it grows quite still, it stammers in your chest
     and day and night the sentence, always there
beyond the Gulf is pulsing out its love
     unspoken by the speakers of a tireless body, mute—
the sentence dancing on immobile limbs
     sings high notes for the head, or in the closing
velar stairwell plunging for the next floor eyes quite shut
     a sentence reckoning, fast as alpine shade,
a flying sentence, lighting from the storm,
     a phantom rider, dead astride his charcoal mare

A shadow sentence travelling eternal nighttime
     autobahns, passing from the depth of fog to never find the
exit sign beneath the trampled snow or lit by fires
     that signal blue, lighthouses, blue-good, good—
this rolling sentence closing eyes against the stream,
     rolls on without an end in sight,
a sentence slumped on intercity trains that pierce the
     darkened crossings far beyond each
whispers of the fog, the catatonic speech of slurried ice,
     deserted service-station pools of thickened oil—
advancing sentence, unknowing where it goes or comes
     from, turning sentence, spinning, letting fly

A sentence speaks, long wordless lake
     of water disappearing- when I think
to flood with more the sentences pour on- I hear no
     more, each sound-replacing sound, the deafened shower
draws on each sentence through the brain of wire,
     tattooing the undercurrent dolphin skein
of sentences that swim with promises
     unkept—all this I’ll follow now, without a sound,
to leave behind me all my words, a sentence where there’s you and
     no-you, language of fire and earth unknowing every
word, the body of the sentencing now unframed: forlorn flight
     receiver light, secret-guardian unworld-silent, wall of soil.

Original copyright © Krisztina Tóth. Translation copyright © Kevin Nolan, 2007.

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Krisztina Tóth (b. 1967, Budapest) is one of Hungary’s most highly acclaimed younger poets. She has won several awards and her poetry has been translated into many languages. She lives in Budapest where she also designs and produces stained-glass windows. Her work was featured in the anthology, A Fine Line: New Poetry from Eastern and Central Europe (eds. Boase-Beier, Buchler & Sampson, Arc, 2006). Her Hungarian publications consist of five verse collections, including Az árnyékember, (The Shadow Person, 1997) and Porhó, (Powder Snow – New and Selected Poems, 2001).