From the Rill to the Ocean
The rill, a big sleepy, strange ditch
In it muddy water, the home of sedge and bulrush
But Kraszna, Szamos , Tisza and Duna**
Carry its foam to the ocean.
And if the cliff to climb should fall on me
If hundreds of curses should grip my blood
If thousands moles should dig a dam in front of me
I will still reach the ocean.
I want to because it is sad courage
I want to because it is the world=s marvel of marvels
That someone starts at the rill
And reaches the saint, the big Ocean.
* My translation of Ady Endre=s poem titled Az Ertöl az Oceanig
**Four rivers in Hungary
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