F. Attila Balázs (Hungary)

F. Attila Balázs (Hungary)
Born in Transylvania on January 15th, 1954. He graduated in Library science and Literary translation in Bucharest. In 1990, he moved to Slovakia. In 1994, he founded AB-ART Publishing, of which he is the director since then. He is a member of the Hungarian Writers’ Union, of the European Academy of Sciences, Arts and letters, Paris, of the Writers’ Union of Romania, of the Hungarian PEN Club, of the Writers’ Association of Slovakia. honorary member of the Academy of Sciences, Arts and letters, Chisinau, Moldova, As the author of more than a dozen collections of poetry and the translator of more than twenty books of poetry and fiction, Attila F. Balázs has received numerous awards and prizes in acknowledgement of his various literary activities (Opera Omnia Arghezi Prize (2014), Dardanica Prize, Brussels-Prishtina , Lucian Blaga Prize ( 2011), EASAL Prize, Paris, 2020, Madách Prize (Slovakia, 1992), World English Writer’s Union award, India, 2019,Lukijan Mušicki Award, Belgrad, 2019. His works have been translated in 22 languages. As an invited poet, he is a regular participant of diverse literary festivals all around the world.
sit down here on the bed
I gaze at you in silence
I discover you anew
stay next to me
don’t rush off, sit down
the swallows are wintering already
not even the clouds rest
on the top of the hill
stay next to me
until I collect myself
with trembling hands
this is a puzzle with ghosts
I’m not afraid of myself
the days are scattered cards
I search for you on the map of your face
hold my hand until I die!
you’re watching when you’re not even
looking what could you see with coins
on your eyes?
what do blind eyes see?
words lose their weight
objects their forms
gestures their meaning
lips their shine
birds their voices
poems their meaning
only you
keep the lifelike moving pictures
who I once was
you look at me inside
in a stiff yoga position
a viper hisses in your lap
I heal my spiritual immune system
with poems
is there somebody who will
take me seriously?
will there be somebody who will
be touched by a metaphor?
will I be able to cut a window
in the grey wall?
how will the erased lines
assemble in the communication cloud?

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