In the Woods, Enchanted Woods
a children’s verse translation
Published in
3 min readJul 4, 2020
a poem by Zoltán Zelk, translated by Joe Váradi
The wind is asleep today,
was in no mood to rise,
her grandmother, the tempest,
has also shut her eyes.
Asleep is the whole lot now,
even the gentle breeze —
why then do the branches pop,
why the rustling leaves?
None other than two birds who
happen to fly this way,
one lands on a willow tree,
one makes a pine branch sway.
Be it willow, be it pine,
it suits the pair just fine,
for their tired wings and feet
both restful and sublime.
Paused under the canopies,
as I sauntered along,
waiting to hear: will the birds
sing me an evening song?
Understood their every tweet,
be it “chirp”, be it “crow” —
cuckoo bird be my witness,
word for word, went like so:
