My dear one crossed the street where it narrows,
doves flew down to spend time with the sparrows.
Gently she stepped on the pavement - delight -
her ankle reflected the glint of the light.
Once, when her shoulder had moved by a touch,
a youth, just passing, was leering too much.
Light was her step, the streetlights were burning,
those passing by were staring with yearning.
They smiled and they did not think for a start
that she's the branches and root of my heart.
She, whom I cuddled - let me clearly say -
I fretted that they would take her away.
But then those desires caused me to grin,
snapped off the head of the envy within.
And thus my dear one did gaily proceed,
with cooling breezes that followed her lead.
Styling and modeling by: Annavirág Klausz
Photo: László Ary
Poem:
Attila József: When my dear one crossed the street
English by Leslie A. Kery
Special outfit series by asalon.hu, using mainly Hungarian designer pieces, associated then with literary, philosophical or other types of thoughts and texts.
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