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New Left Review I/24, March-April 1964


Attila Jozsef

Two Pomes

There was Beauty

There was beauty. There was sweetness.
I contemplated
a delicate rose.
And reality smashed down on me
like a loose boulder.

The boulder is just an image.
It’ll be best to
tell everything.
The daily grind’s edifying
and has the whip-hand.

My instinct followed the right track.
When that man came in
it boomed like breakers:
‘I know him. Electricity.
He’ll switch off the mains.’

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