I don’t always know where I belong

I believe in God,
but does God believe in me?

I once had a real dream,
or maybe just a drunken vision.
Disheveled, dripping with saliva,
slumped over on a couch.

I was mortal back then,
until I received
your immortal kiss.

And then you whisper again:
“Be your own still water,
then stir it with an unexpected step.”

I run after you into infinity.
I’m about to run dry — but where to?
In the desert, where can I refill?

I drink another beer and
the boundless voices become louder.

About

Rózsa

Tamás

This website was created with the support of the Demján Sándor Program.