Zoltán Zelk, “Dorosic Nightfall, 1943”

The original Hungarian text of this poem by Zoltán Zelk has been published many times: most recently, with carefully corrected title, in the literary journal Eső (Winter 2018), where I first encountered it. To my knowledge, the only translation into English is my own, which I present here, in honor of the international Holocaust Remembrance Day. I hope that showing it here on my blog will not stand in the way of its publication elsewhere one day. The poem deserves to be known around the world.

I read this translation aloud at a special private lucheon held by the Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture and its Cowan Center for Education in the fall of 2019; Gyula Jenei (poet and founding editor of Eső), Marianna Fekete, and I were the featured guests of the Cowan Center’s 2019 Education Forum, of which the luncheon was the closing event. At this luncheon we met Will Evans, founder and publisher of Deep Vellum, who will be publishing my translation of Jenei’s collection Mindig más in February 2022. We also had the honor of meeting the poet Frederick Turner, who has collaborated with the scholar, writer, and Holocaust survivor Zsuzsanna Ozsváth on numerous translations. It was a sincere and momentous occasion, worthy of long memory. We are so grateful for the hospitality of Claudia MacMillan, Larry Allums, all the staff, and everyone who attended the luncheon and other events.

For the Hungarian text (“Dorosici alkony, 1943”), please go here.

Dorosic Nightfall, 1943

Zoltán Zelk

Translated by Diana Senechal

Thirty-three have perished in the pit.
The thirty-fourth collapsed before our eyes.
How many we have buried in two weeks!
we could have stacked the bodies to the skies.

And then we did! The dreadful grey tower!
Too much to bear, even in the sky;
staggering down the tower’s countless stairs,
beside the grave appeared Adonai.

And then he wailed an upward-swelling prayer,
its melody the tint of smoke and char—
and trembling they whirled below the earth,
the typhus-decimated legs and arms.

He tore his chest apart, burned all his rags,
fell to the ground, and soaked himself in mud;
cursing the Sixth Day of his creation,
he called back the Darkness and the Void.

My terrified companions might have whispered:
“An unhinged cantor… burying his brother…”
but I knew well that this was: Adonai!
and each one fallen in the pit, his brother.

Everything here is his brother, child, and sin,
everything that he long ago released:
the fire, the lice, the plague, and the infected
summer nightfall with its sour green taste.

Pounding his forehead into root and stone,
this is why he bows before Affliction,
this is why he moans with barren lip;
he is as speechless as before Creation.

Only the smoke of his terrible song came out,
and even it got stuck on top of a thin
branch, and in the sudden lack of sound,
we felt raw terror freezing on our skin.

And once again the curses and the blows,
—our numbed guards snapped back into their mien—
again the movement throbbing to the bone,
the failing muscles’ lousy dance again.

Always one and the same insensate rhythm.
But our shovels kept on tossing, tossing high,
and clods of earth rained down upon the heavens,
and in this way we buried Adonai.

Done and Not Done

With writing, you get used to not being done. You have deadlines and stages, and you work toward them, making your text as perfect as possible, but you know there will be more. Still, I am proud that my translation of Gyula Jenei’s poetry collection Mindig más (Always Different) are now a complete manuscript, which I have reviewed carefully and will send to the publisher, Deep Vellum, tomorrow. The book should appear within the next year; if all goes well, it might even come out in late 2021. This has been a project of more than two years; over those two years, my Hungarian has taken shape, my familiarity with the poems has deepened, and Marianna, Gyula, and I have had many conversations about the book. Their help was tremendous; they reviewed each of my translations, of all forty-eight poems, sometimes in several stages, and sent me comments; generally the corrections and suggestions were few but essential. A particular event turned these translations toward a book: our visit in October 2019 to the Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture, where we were the featured guests of the Cowan Center’s Education Forum, and where we met Will Evans, the publisher of Deep Vellum.

So the manuscript is done, but that’s not the end; the publisher may request or make edits, and there may be several stages of review. Still, the book is much closer than it was, and I think people will love the poems in English, as many have so far. Five have been published in Literary Matters; another one will appear soon in The Massachusetts Review.

The picture above appeared in a May 2019 post, “A Perfect Imperfection“; I took it at a local cafe, near school, where I used to go to work on the translations (on Wednesdays, when I had a substantial break during the day). It was usually quiet there, so I could sink into the poems with no distractions. The following year, my schedule changed, so the work was relegated to evenings and weekends (and picked up pace, too). This fall was the real crunch; I translated two poems per week, and then even more at the end. But it also grew slower and more leisurely, since the basic translating had grown easier and I could focus on details.

A book is not a book until it is, so there’s still a ways to go. But existence comes in degrees, and in that respect, the book’s has gotten warmer.

Packed Days, Words, and (Now) Bags Too

tuesday event 9

How do you pack a few days like these into a blog post? For the past week, my colleagues Gyula Jenei, Marianna Fekete, and I were guests of the Dallas Institute and Cowan Center; these days keep opening into more.  The Education Forum on Monday and Tuesday evening, the various introductions and conversations, the visits to various places in the city, the assembly yesterday morning at the Terrell Academy, the luncheon, the sightseeing in Fort Worth yesterday–all of this was so full, warm, and brimming that we will be thinking about them for a long time. Not only that, but new projects and ideas are coming out of them; I have a lot to do over the coming months and years.

On Sunday we visited the Dallas Museum of Art, and on Monday during the day we walked around a lot and visited the Aquarium and Sixth Floor Museum.

Both evening events were terrific; the audience took genuine interest, and we enjoyed the readings and discussions. On Monday, Gyula Jenei read seven of his poems, and I read my translations of them; afterward, he, Marianna Fekete, and I held a panel discussion and took a few questions from the audience.

On Tuesday, I read aloud my translation of Marianna’s essay about the haiku poetry of Béla Markó; then Gyula, Marianna, and I had a panel discussion, followed by a Haiku haiku workshop, in which Marianna taught the audience how to pronounce several of the haiku poems, and I explained the individual words. You can see the Flickr album of the Tuesday night event here; I have included just a few below (and at the top of this post).

Things kept getting better and better. On Wednesday morning we gave an assembly at the I.M. Terrell Academy for STEM and VPA, which is one of the Dallas Institute’s Cowan Academies. We spoke in a huge, elegant auditorium to several hundred students, who listened attentively and asked sharp questions at the end. Then we went on a tour of the school and saw (for instance) the music room and several classes in progress. We were moved and impressed.

Then we returned to the Dallas Institute for a luncheon with special guests, including the poet Frederick Turner–who, with Zsuzsanna Ozsváth, has translated many Hungarian and other poets–and the publisher Will Evans. (Dr. Ozsváth was unable to be in town for the event, but I felt her presence anyway.) The conversations and readings brought us together not only around the table, but for something ongoing too. Nothing I say right now will do it justice; I can only thank everyone who was there. Much more will come of it, visibly and invisibly.

I am in a rush now, so I will finish with a few pictures from yesterday (at the steakhouse–Larry Allums is wearing a bib, one of two that I brought for him and Claudia MacMillan, from our faculty trip to Serbia last August), on the golf cart at the Fort Worth Botanical Gardens, where Claudia took us for a long and lovely walk, and in South Dallas last night). I am grateful for all of this. More thoughts and photos soon.

Photo credits:
Monday night event: Marshall Surratt;
Tuesday night event: James Edward (Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture);
Halloween photo: Marianna Fekete;
Terrell assembly photos: Jerrett Lyday;
Group photo outside Terrell Academy: Claudia MacMillan;
All other photos: Diana Senechal.

I made a few additions to this piece after posting it.

  • “To know that you can do better next time, unrecognizably better, and that there is no next time, and that it is a blessing there is not, there is a thought to be going on with.”

    —Samuel Beckett, Malone Dies

  • TEDx Talk

    Delivered at TEDx Upper West Side, April 26, 2016.

  • ABOUT THE AUTHOR

     

    Diana Senechal is the author of Republic of Noise: The Loss of Solitude in Schools and Culture and the 2011 winner of the Hiett Prize in the Humanities, awarded by the Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture. Her second book, Mind over Memes: Passive Listening, Toxic Talk, and Other Modern Language Follies, was published by Rowman & Littlefield in October 2018. In February 2022, Deep Vellum will publish her translation of Gyula Jenei's 2018 poetry collection Mindig Más.

    Since November 2017, she has been teaching English, American civilization, and British civilization at the Varga Katalin Gimnázium in Szolnok, Hungary. From 2011 to 2016, she helped shape and teach the philosophy program at Columbia Secondary School for Math, Science & Engineering in New York City. In 2014, she and her students founded the philosophy journal CONTRARIWISE, which now has international participation and readership. In 2020, at the Varga Katalin Gimnázium, she and her students released the first issue of the online literary journal Folyosó.

  • INTERVIEWS AND TALKS

    On April 26, 2016, Diana Senechal delivered her talk "Take Away the Takeaway (Including This One)" at TEDx Upper West Side.
     

    Here is a video from the Dallas Institute's 2015 Education Forum.  Also see the video "Hiett Prize Winners Discuss the Future of the Humanities." 

    On April 19–21, 2014, Diana Senechal took part in a discussion of solitude on BBC World Service's programme The Forum.  

    On February 22, 2013, Diana Senechal was interviewed by Leah Wescott, editor-in-chief of The Cronk of Higher Education. Here is the podcast.

  • ABOUT THIS BLOG

    All blog contents are copyright © Diana Senechal. Anything on this blog may be quoted with proper attribution. Comments are welcome.

    On this blog, Take Away the Takeaway, I discuss literature, music, education, and other things. Some of the pieces are satirical and assigned (for clarity) to the satire category.

    When I revise a piece substantially after posting it, I note this at the end. Minor corrections (e.g., of punctuation and spelling) may go unannounced.

    Speaking of imperfection, my other blog, Megfogalmazások, abounds with imperfect Hungarian.

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