at the chapel in Szárhegy
szárhegyi kápolnánál
if my guilty look were a prayer
but we are specks of dust we may
the road leads upwards – at the small chapel
the heavy tears are wiped away
the world is filled with holy prayer’s appeal
you see here the wounds are healing
- and the penances can heal
yet clouds on the horizon of Szárhegy are kneeling
the buds of prayer sprout
above the vertigo of Szármányhegy clog
all pain and joy merge into one cry out
if the pine trees drink up the fog
deep in the forest a Secler temple - out of faith you can build its base founds
here the knees, the heart and the mouth tremble
only at the Holy Mass you can heal the wounds
painful pleasure from the height infinite - the prayer will thunder nonstop
psalms are drummed to the sacred beat
the lute players in God’s workshop
on the horizon of the noble forest
we are mere dust we may have fears
come and pray again – I would suggest
because Szármányhegy drinks up the tears
Libros Libertad 