Anesthesia | Kinga Fabó

I thought: he’d clean me out.
But he only vaporized me.
Strained my colors.
Crinkled them back. Inside the statue.

Then came the odors.
The badly installed roots.
As corpus delicti.
On the operating-table.

I’m sterile.
Famous outside.
Empty inside.
My auxiliary verbs are men with headdresses.

His donation: railway tracks without smile;
always ready for tragedy –
strange, like a heartbeat –
sin is only a decoration.

I have no peace. I’m certain:
I’ll take root somewhere.
He is a professional.
He wants me frozen.

Translated by Gabor G. Gyukics

Comments ( 5 )

  1. ReplyBalázs Wacha
    That's great! I'm glad to can read the English version of one of my favorit Fabó-poems. .
    • ReplyAuthorKrysia Jopek
      Yes, me, too! Kinga Fabo's poems are nothing short of amazing. I am honored to have her two poems in the debut issue of DIAPHANOUS and also--to have her help as a Contributing Poetry Editor of DIAPHANOUS PRESS--as well as a new friend!
  2. ReplyBalázs Wacha
    I'm glad, too. I have high hopes of your friendly cooperation! .
  3. ReplyJayachandran Ramachandran
    Awesome poem
  4. ReplyIstvan Ertl
    Gyukics' translation is perfect, but even he is unable to recreate the internal pulsating rhythm of the Hungarian original.

Your words are welcome…