SaboKittyKat

okay so, (since you gave it a like, I do it) this is actually my first time reading this poem too, I didn't expect this to be so complex. So here's my best try:

It hurts so much

Inside and outside

From lurking death

(like a mouse frightened in it's hole)

while you're inflamed,

you take refuge

in a woman's arms, lap, knees to protect you.

Not just the soft,

warm lap lures, not just the yearning,

but the 'must' pushes you over there too -

that's why

all hugs, that finds a woman,

until the mouth goes white too.

Doubled burden,

and doubled treasure, that you must love.

Who loves yet can't find their pair,

is so lost,

just as unprotected

like the wild beast doing its neccesities.

There's no other

refuge for us; though you held the blade of the knife

towards your mother, you Brave!

And see, there still was a woman,

who understood these words,

but still pushed me away from her.

There is no place for me, like this,

among the living. My head whirrs,

My troubles and pains are decorated;

like a rattle I feel,

in the hand of a child's rattle,

when they shake it, while being left alone.

What should be done

for and against her?

I'm not emberassed, if I find it out,

since this world

pushes even those out, that

the Sun dazes, and the dreams scare.

The culture

is dropping off of me, like from others

the clothing in happy love -

but where is it written,

that she should watch, as death throws me around

and I suffer alone?

The baby

is hurt too, when the woman births.

Shared pain can be soothed by humility.

But for me

my painful song brings me money,

and along with it, with shame I am torn.

Come and help!

You little boys, let your coal

spring back where she walks.

Innocents,

Shreek beneath boots

and tell her: It hurts so much.

You loyal dogs,

Get under wheels

and bark at her: It hurts so much.

Women, bearers of

your children, miscarry

and cry to her: It hurts so much.

Whole people,

fall, break

and mumble to her: It hurts so much.

You men,

tearing each other apart for women,

don't hold it back: It hurts so much.

Horses, bulls,

for you to pull the yoke

you get castrated, shriek out: It hurts so much.

Mute fish,

bite on hooks under ice

and gawp: It hurts so much.

Mammals,

everything, that trembles from suffering,

burn, where you live, garden, wild land -

with charred bodies,

as she falls asleep,

come to her bed and yelp with me: It hurts so much.

Let her hear it while she lives.

Her own worth she has denied.

Preoccupied, simply by her convenience

Inside and outside,

from the fleeing living

the very last shelter.

- József Attila, 1936