Sírva fakadunk a dolgok állásán
We burst into tears over the state of affairs

Summary/Abstract: Long ago I read this poem, which is waking and wakefully dedicated to A.B. Now time has come again, and soon there is an idiotic commonplace on the tip of my tongue: the commonplace saying time flies or something similar. As the other day I painfully realised how many years it is since my once restless natured friend, the poet János Sziveri, who was also born in and then moved from Voivodine and who, after his short life of vicissitudes, now rests - under a hard, massive crucifix- in the Farkasréti graveyard. ( The span on the cross: 1954-1990.)

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