“She twirls herself, turns round, twirls once more,
posing, smiling, laughing, beckoning airily,
drifts off, only to turn back beckoning, offering,
repulsing, coolly firm, and then turns away,
so that you think, well, it’s hopeless, when she glances back
lightly, sidelong, her eyes opening, pupils wide,
and wider yet, and she’s laughing at you, at you alone,
laughing gaily, and you freeze, astonished,
your throat constricting, as she hovers lovely
and out of reach, out of reach and lovely,
smiling at you, her head inclined aside,
her hair brushing one cheek, there she is and yet not,
unbelievable and simply gorgeous, and your heart tightens
as she stands there so lovely, and out of reach.”

— András Petőcz

EUROPE, METAPHORICALLY http://www.c3.hu/~mediumar/PETVERS1.HTM (1990).
András Petőcz: In Praise of the Sea (1999, ISBN 963 9101 51 6).
Poems

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András Petőcz 5

Hungarian writer 1959

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Her face is a charm, so full of grace,
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holding her sleeves, she faces the morning sun.
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