but as if it didn't matter, it stopped.
And yet, like someone watching
the long rain from a cave - I looked at the border:
it fell like a monotonous, eternal rain,
colorless, what was colorful, the past.
The Danube just flowed. And like a small child
on the lap of a fertile, absent-minded mother
, the foams played beautifully
and laughed at me.
They trembled in the tide of time like
rolling cemeteries with tombstones.
...
From the poem By the Danube,
Attila Jozsef
