Sebestyén Péter: Prologue - Monday, towards evening (Prológ – hétfő, estefelé Angol nyelven)
Prológ – hétfő, estefelé (Magyar)
Üres város. Tintapaca a félhomályban, valami követ,
Prologue - Monday, towards evening (Angol)
Empty town. Ink smudge in the half-light, something follows you, but takes no notice of you. Out through the door, in through the window, it brays, it neighs, though horses died out long ago. You become entwined with the sounds; hail started to drum. Be off to the scaffold - pity for you, pity for all whom the fiend drags away.
You can wait a while. All merit of the light crackles off like glaze, the square now belongs to the festival.
So be it.
The bloodmasters start to busy themselves; work is like wildfire in their hands. The ruckus divides, the clown hauls himself out from behind the concave mirror, ecce homo, pea-green guffaws. The eye pops out, bunces, a glass marble proceeds towards the sewer's grating, endlessly rolling to a point at which the dead share their very substance with the world.