„To love is the most cruel”

Moving into a hotel room
in the capital of a foreign country,
never leaving the room again,
not even airing it,
in long years’ time
weaving a perfect,
unreasonable language
from unfamiliar words
filtering in from the street,
conceiving a pure future,
having a deadly suspicion
as if the Moon was singing,
following the thread of decay,
a stranger will step into the room
pulling out her plain silver dagger
from under her robe,
and will explain that in long years’ time,
since she moved into a hotel room,
in the capital of a foreign country,
she has woven perfect,
unreasonable consciousness
from unfamiliar pictures
filtering in from the street,
conceiving a pure past,
having a deadly suspicion
that one morning,
as if she was staring at the Sun,
following the thread of decay,
she will step into his room
to find a stranger there
pulling out her plain gold dagger
from under her robe,
and says: the prophecy has been fulfilled,
and the metallic flash of miracle
will open the channels of love.

Translated by Barbara Bércesi