Attila never grew flowers, never planted trees. But with the poems that he wrote, he dug a garden of the mind, as deep as the suffering which made the words grow.
Barney
In 1925, Attila József, one of Hungary’s best loved poets, wrote a poem called Kertész leszek – I Shall Be A Gardener.
But Attila was no gardener. Born into the 9th District of Budapest, a tough, industrial corner of the city, Attila was a street kid, barely schooled.
He got some schooling in the end. Even went to university, dreamed of being a teacher – but was sent down, for writing a poem deemed ’seditious’ by the state.
He suffered from depression, schizophrenia. In December 1937 he died under the wheels of a train at Balatonszárszó station. Accident – suicide? He was 32 years old.
Attila never grew flowers, never planted trees. But with the poems that he wrote, he dug a garden of the mind, as deep as the suffering which made the words grow.
I shall be a gardener, I’ll grow trees
early in the morning, I’ll rise too
and nothing else will bother my head
except those flowers in the flowerbed.
All the flowers that I have grafted
shall be my sweethearts – every one,
and if weeds grow, I won’t mind,
faithful and true, each flower of mine.
I’ll drink my milk and smoke my pipe,
and closely guard my own good name,
no danger can reach me, I can’t be found,
I’ve planted myself into the ground.
This is needed, so much needed,
in the East and in the West –
and if the world cannot be saved,
may there be flowers laid on its grave.