Hunt 1947
“A nightmare that will end well. László Luka was hoping for this.” Story of the Week (June 24), by Zsuzsa Selyem. Translated from Hungarian by Erika Mihálycsa.
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In Memory of M./M. emlékére
“Am I a coward? I commune with death every day./ I’m more afraid of people….” Poem of the Week (April 13), by Zsuzsa Takács, translated from Hungarian by Erika Mihálycsa.
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From ‘Premonitions of mourning’
“It was three in the morning. The wings/ of two black moths brushed across my face…” By Zsuzsa Takács, translated from Hungarian by Erika Mihálycsa.
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After the Iron Age / A vaskorszak után
“We wrapped ourselves in rains in October, watched run-over/ dogs scattered along the road: spilt guts,/ blood, hair…” By Gábor Schein, translated from Hungarian by Erika Mihálycsa.
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From the Sky, the Earth
“…after a while the pictures started climbing off the walls of the exhibition room and stretched until they had as many dimensions as they needed. Four, because they didn’t want to live for ever.” By Zsuzsa Selyem, translated from Hungarian by Erika Mihálycsa.
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The Betrothed
“they seldom gave each other pleasure/and in vain they learnt patience and goodwill,/ in vain they taught their bodies…” Poem of the Week (September 30), by Gábor Schein. Translated from Hungarian by Erika Mihálycsa.
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21
“Who am I to praise you? When I was on my way to you the train went up in flames…” Story of the Week (August 8), by Zsuzsa Selyem. Translated from Hungarian by Erika Mihálycsa.
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The Wines of the Shakespeare Estate
“In wine there is truth…” Zsolt Láng’s ‘short story written in the form of wine labels’, translated from Hungarian by Erika Mihálycsa.
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