If I were the sunshine

If I were the sunshine I'd shine upon your face,

If I were a light breeze I'd caress you with grace,

If I were nightingale I'd thrill you with my song,

If I were a fever I'd not leave you for long,

If I were a priest I'd pray always for your soul,

If I were marble floor I'd lay under your sole,

If I were morning dew I'd fall upon your hair,

If I were a crowned prince so many things I'd dare.

If I were a fair knight I'd fight fierce dragons too…

N' if I were raving mad I'd fall in love with you.

I love your face

I love your face; I love your hair,

I love your soft, red, cherry lips,

Love the way you sit on the chair,

The way you sway your well formed hips.

Love your soft touch, the scent you wear,

I love everything about you.

I think you are beyond compare

…‘Cause you’re a rag-doll sweet Lulu…

Suffering…

On the face of Earth lies the shroud of night,

Dark is the landscape, not a chink of light,

The air’s full of sighs, my passion like dew

Rising in hot sun, as I think of you.

And yes, my heart’s aching, pain in my soul,

As I lie suffering trapped in hellhole.

I ache like mad and with hot tears I cry,

… a part of my body’s caught in my fly!!!…

She deserted me…

She deserted me, she left,

I am heartbroken, bereft.

My heart is full of sorrow,

‘Cause she’ll be back tomorrow.

© P. J. Oszmann Translations/re-works from Hungarian (1949-2004)

The originals of these poems (in Hungarian) are from my mid teen years. (Late 1940’s early 1950’s vintage)

Apart from the last one - which is a fairly close translation – they are more like “re-works” than translations, but follow very closely the spirit of the originals.

There is some tongue in cheek youthful bravado and more than a touch of irony in them.

They were written shortly after a very painful rejection by a “first love”. (One of the many first loves, considering that I was in love with Shirley Temple, Judy Garland and a few others before… and that shows my age!)

I found them recently amongst a pile of “Love Poems” written in that period and I do not think I will ever attempt to translate or re-write them, with the possible exception of the few remaining tongue in cheek types. However, the original of my sonnet: ”When the dusk settles with quiet whispers”  - already posted here earlier – is also from this “pile”.