Budapest
by Billy Collins
My pen moves along the page
like the snout of a strange animal
shaped like a human arm
and dressed in the sleeve of a loose green sweater
I watch it sniffing the paper ceaselessly
intent as any forager that has nothing on its mind
but the grubs and insects
that will allow it to live another day
It wants only to be here tomorrow
dressed, perhaps, in the sleeve of a plaid shirt
nose pressed against the page
writing a few more dutyful lines
while I gaze out the window
and imagine Budapest
or some other city
where I have never been
*****
Quería encontrar algo más "concreto" que no sea en húngaro... pero parece que es esto que el Google ofrece. Quizás una otra, letras de una cantación - tampoco ayuda mucho entender la ciudad, y quizás da un poco impresión de la vida de noche. Y es verdad que, entre los visitantes masculinos por lo menos, Budapest es famoso por las chicas bonitas...
*****
Budapest letras
Artista: Jethro Tull
Album: Crest Of A Knave (1987)
I think she was a middle-distance runner...
(the translation wasn't clear).
Could be a budding stately hero.
International competition in a year.
She was a good enough reason for a party...
(well, you couldn't keep up on a hard track mile)
while she ran a perfect circle.
And she wore a perfect smile
in Budapest... hot night in Budapest.
We had to cozzy up in the old gymnasium...
dusting off the mandolins and checking on the gear.
She was helping out at the back-stage...
stopping hearts and chilling beer.
Yes, and her legs went on for ever.
Like staring up at infinity
through a wisp of cotton panty
along a skin of satin sea.
Hot night in Budapest.
You could cut the heat, peel it back with the wrong side of a knife.
Feel it blowing from the sidefills. Feel like you were playing for your life
(if not the money).
Hot night in Budapest.
She bent down to fill the ice box
and stuffed some more warm white wine in
like some weird unearthly vision
wearing only T-shirt, pants and skin.
You know, it rippled, just a hint of muscle.
But the boys and me were heading west
so we left her to the late crew
and a hot night in Budapest.
It was a hot night in Budapest.
She didn't speak much English language...
(she didn't speak much anyway).
She wouldn't make love, but she could make good sandwich
and she poured sweet wine before we played.
Hey, Budapest, cha, cha, cha. Let's watch her now.
I thought I saw her at the late night restaurant.
She would have sent blue shivers down the wall.
But she didn't grace our table.
In fact, she wasn't there at all.
Yes, and her legs went on forever.
Like staring up at infinity.
Her heart was spinning to the west-lands
and she didn't care to be
that night in Budapest.
Hot night in Budapest.
