József Attila Tiszta szívvel angolul 4 fordításban

Tiszta szívvel

Nincsen apám, se anyám,
se istenem, se hazám,
se bölcsőm, se szemfedőm,
se csókom, se szeretőm.

Harmadnapja nem eszek,
se sokat, se keveset.
Húsz esztendőm hatalom,
húsz esztendőm eladom.

Hogyha nem kell senkinek,
hát az ördög veszi meg.
Tiszta szívvel betörök,
ha kell, embert is ölök.

Elfognak és felkötnek,
áldott földdel elfödnek
s halált hozó fű terem
gyönyörűszép szívemen.

With a pure heart 

I have neither native sod,
nor a father, mother, god,
cradle gone, the shroud I miss,
lack a lover, lack a kiss.
 
Three days’ hunger, not a bite:
nothing heavy, nothing light.
Just on twenty, strong and well,
twenty years I’ll try to sell.
 
If a buyer can’t be got,
let the devil take the lot.
Pure at heart, I surely will
break and enter, even kill.
 
They will catch me, I’ll be hung,
blessed earth on me be flung,
deadly grasses will then start
growing on my splendid heart.

Kery, Leslie A.

From a pure heart

I have no mother no father
no God no homeland
no cradle no pall
no kisses no lover.

For the third day I have eaten
neither much nor little
my twenty years are a power
I sell my twenty years.

If nobody wants them
the devil may buy them.
With a pure heart I will break in
if need be: I will kill a man.

They will catch me and hang me
Then cover me with blessed earth
and poisonous grass will grow
on my beautiful heart.

Kabdebó Tamás

Pure heart

I am fatherless, motherless,

Godless and countryless,

I have no cradle, no funeral shroud

And no lover to kiss me proud.

For the third day I have had

No food, not a piece of bread.

My strength is my twenty years

I will sell these twenty years. 

And if no one heeds my cry, 

The devil may choose to buy.

My heart’s pure, I’ll burn and loot

If I must, I’ll even shoot. 

They will catch me and string me up

With the good earth cover me up

And death-bringing grass will start 

Growing from my beautiful, pure heart.

John Bátki

Without father, without mother

without God or homeland either,

withour crib or coffin-cover,

without kisses or a lover.

for the third day – without fussing,

I have eaten next to nothing.

My power are my years.

I sell all my twenty years.

Perhaps, if no one else will,

the buyer will be the devil.

With a pure heart – that’s a job,

I may kill and I shall rob.

They’ll catch me, hang me high,

in blessed earth I shall lie,

and poisonous grass will start

to grow on my beautiful heart.

Faminehill