Budapest, 1900

In violet twilight the lights come on

Along the boulevards.

Raucous energy surges:

Juvenile metropolis thrashes back and forth,

Sophisticated and coarse.

Chestnuts dropping on Castle Walk

Echo the autumn forlornly.

A lonely cello complains.


Clear skies rise again in December,

Paler gold of a winter sun

Refracted through crystalline cold.

Festive innocence falls with the snow:

Rich women prance along, snuggled in furs,

Emerging from confectioneries,

Fondling dainty parcels, a joy to unwrap.

Day’s blue diamond sings fire and ice.

Skating rinks and ballrooms ring

With pleasure, crisp as snow-crunch.


In March, the river’s rising thrills

With ripe commotion, swirling increase.

By April, the quays and bridges

Quaver in mother-of-pearl.

Acacias, apricots and lilacs in May

Charge the atmosphere with sex,

Some wild transcendence in the bone,

Elusive as the sinuous smiling motions

Of pagan brides in light frocks.

Summer thunders with gypsy bravura,

Dishes clatter in open-air restaurants,

Young wives throw open their windows

And lean out into the sun.


The city initiates its strolling neophytes,

Writers beginning in media res.

Outbreaks of appetite exuberate in sorrow,

Breaking up the slow sad music

Of futility, prolific with schemes.

New forms, new expression! Coffee houses

Seethe with a bold pioneer generation;

Brief lurid straw-fire flares into ashes.

Beneath the clamour, a wistful knowing tone

Strangely illuminates the night.