Terebess Asia Online (TAO)


Haiku in English by Hungarian Poets


Auth, Szilvia
Bakos, Ferenc
Balás, Márk
Benő Attila
Bíró, József
Bogár, Ádám
Dávid, Beatrix
Fábián, László
Feldmár, András
Fodor, Ákos
Futár, Iván
Gergely, László
Gyukics, Gábor
Hetesi, Péter Pál
Horváth, Márton
Káliz, Endre
Kántor, János Kurszán
Mándy, Gábor
Molcer, Mátyás
Németh Péter Mikola
Oravecz, Imre
Pachnik,, Zoltán
Szennay Ilona
Tandori, Dezsõ
Tarnoc, Jon
Terebess, Gábor
Török, Attila
Vihar, Béla
Vihar, Judit
Vörös, István

Haiku Poetry in Hungary by Judit Vihar

Focus on Hungary. Haiku by Szilvia Auth, Károlyiné Baka Gyöngyi, Ferenc Bakos, József Balogh, Zoltán Csíkzsögödi Szabó, János Csokits, Marcell Domonkos, Csaba Fecske, Miklós Fucskó, Katalin Harcos, Ödön Horváth, Béla Jánky, János Kurszán Kántor, János Karsai, András Ferenc Kovács, Vincze Lucskai, Hajnalka Sánta, László Sárközi, Klára Siklósi Horváth, Sándor Szúnyogh, Attila Török, József Utassy, László Valyon, Judith Vihar, Sándor Weöres (all haiku in the selection translated by Anatoly Kudryavitsky); Haiku Poetry in Hungary by Judit Vihar > in: Shamrock - Haiku Journal of the Irish Haiku Society. No. 16. [2010]

A History of Hungarian Haiku in English by Judit Vihar (PDF)
Hungarian Haiku in Hungarian and English. Translated by György Vermes (PDF)


Auth Szilvia (1979-)

motionlessness and
frozen twilight-shadows -
broken trees on knees

looking you in the
summer, our silent dreams


Bakos Ferenc (1946-)

First skating -
the tranquillity
of a calligraphy

Desert wind -
looking at my boots
as human beings

letters came -
today I watch the sunset
through the shutters

Ancient tombs
in the desert -
scarabs everywhere
Included in Haiku World, by William J. Higginson, Kodansha, 1996

Our mother's catafalque-
May bright sunshine,
warbling of birds

Chestnut petals
on the windscreen - stowaway:
a ladybird

Michelangelo's David
selecting shells.

Amidst stronghold walls
a green foliage islet:

Evening watering -
its thousand tongues
boxwood clicking

Clouds of June:
isn't even the eagle's flying

Evening swimming -
setting, rising
solar disc

next time
in three thousand years

In autumn lake's mirror
two swimmers -
a light-year between them

Sailing boat
moored by a shining
gossamer thread
Kusamakura Contest, 2000, Honorable Mention

Somehow recall,
these tiny grains of kiwi,
my dead mother

Rising moon shadow -
heart-throb, hark!
of the scarecrow

Autumn fly:
easy to catch,
easy to let go.

Dusk, rain again -
a soaked urchin disappears
in the radish bed

Jewish cemetery -
motionless stones,
soundless birds

First autumn frost:
on my widower father's stair
a numb wasp

Heap of white
in lap of pine, gee!
snow-nest for snow-birds

Next door prayer -
I pause whilst
typing haiku

Christmas skating
till the sky lights up
with the first star
in Croatia Haiku Calendar, 2001

In the Old Year,
all New Year's Day, too:
in Haiku International Anthology, 2000
This piece was cited by President Kogure Gohei in his welcome speech for the audience 
at the 10th anniversary HIA Congress in Tokyo, November 19, 2000.

My pipe-smoke
with blue autumn haze
in contest

across the highway
"sleeping policeman" - of
acacia petals
Basho Haiku Contest, Japan, 2002, in best ten

expiatory mass
two altar-boys
two yawns

being lost
among cherry blossoms—
white butterfly
Vancouver's Cherry Blossom Festival Contest, 2007, Honourable Mention

autumn dusk
in my boots' depths
a lone ladybug
20th Ito En Haiku Contest, 2009, Honorable Mention

old cherry tree:
knotty branches embrace
full-bosomed moon

Mainichi Haiku Contest
, 2009, second prize

ginko walk
unworn shoes of my father
died a year ago
World Haiku Festival Pécs 2010, 2nd prize

by moonlight
perky mud stains
on a girl's cyclamen tights
Mainichi Haiku Contest 2010, Honorable Mention

Hakone. hot spa:
two mother naked poets
greet you, Fujisan!

Fujisan Haiku Contest, 2012, Special Recognition

thirsty for love
fallen cherry petals
in our beer-mugs
European Quarterly Kukai #1 - Spring 2013 Edition, 2 pts

what a rich land!
even the rainbow seems
more corpulent
European Quarterly Kukai #2 - Summer 2013 Edition, 1 pt

my untuned guitar
sound a duet
European Quarterly Kukai #3 - Autumn 2013 Edition, 6 pts

in pine-forest
after Christmas - counting
annual rings
European Quarterly Kukai #4 - Winter 2013 Edition, 6 pts

If seven rainbows
led to Japan, I would leap on
a magic steed

Fourth Japan-English Haiku Contest, EU Section, honorable mention

springtime train:
on my pensioner ticket
a girl's phone number
18th Mainichi Haiku Contest, 2014, Second Prize

For my whisky
I take the liberty to break down
your icicle, Fujisan!

Fujisan Haiku 2014 Contest, Special Recognition


Balás Márk (1978-)


March's chill
warming your hands
in my pocket

March snow
dove leaving behind
a line of footprints



summer moon
sweet softness on my lips:
kissing your chin

summer night
warmth of the day
on your skin

hills sinking
into darkness
summer dusk

after storm
torn clouds on the sky
a rainbow



silky hair curling
among my fingers
fragrance of walnut

Gray light of the air
The heavyness of autumn
deepens and deepens

autumn wind playing
with sweet memories of you
sudden kiss of mist

pink sky
blue leaves of grape

sunset behind
darkening hills
autumn comes

blue sky
wet grass glitters
in brown patches

gray sky
small raindrops
of autumn

midnight fog
scent of burning wood
chill of October

pearls of dew
on the garden seat -
autumn morning

our last chance to talk:
leaves and horsechestnut cracking
under my shoes

scent of dry leaves
in the air
autumn evening

leaving the forest
fragrance of autumn
remains in my coat



Softness of first snow
sleeping with a toy bunny
many years ago

children laughing
among trees standing
in frozen ponds

above the garden
small piece of black sky
and the Orion

small lights blinking:
of the cementery

red rays
through the web
of dry branches

everything white
but the magpie's wing
winter forest

winter sun
an icicle

all day - all night
in the morning
still snowing

blue sky
gentle sunbeams warming
my wintercoat


Benő Attila (1968-)

(after funeral) (temetés után)

Sixty-six ravens
circle round confusedly above
the freshly dug grave.

(belated spring) (megkésett tavasz)

Waist-deep in water
all the rotting wooden pillars.
Too late profusion.

(charity) (jótékonykodás)

By your hand water
sprouts crumbs. Flying about near
here some seagulls, crows.

(high up) (magasban)

The trees are shrinking.
The view is just a foldable
coloured picture-book.

(Novi Sad, 2000) (Újvidék, 2000)

Remains of a bridge
destroyed by bombs. A maimed arm
that is protruded.

(otherworlds) (másvilágok)

Stately columns are
            leaning. Firmly standing there
               the halls of the lights.

(sand-history) (homok-történelem)

Traces smoothed away.
Path of the loud caravan
not kept by the sand.

(saying something) (megszólalás)

Saying something is
a delicate, unstable bridge
between you and me.

(victory) (győzelem)

Laid down sword drying.
Lizard’s flitting over it.
The grass-blades have won.

(view) (kilátás)

Fluttered yet by some gentle breeze.
Your window is closed

Translated by N. Ullrich Katalin


Bíró József (1951-)

On the ice of the lake … virgin - snow
… on the hole-wound - on the cat-ice … image …

"World Haiku 2010 No.6", p.12.


shad' - grown - SOUTH ... weeps
... grieves the ... NORTH ... : tear' - ...
- dew' ... : lightening up


Bogár Ádám (1984-)

The Muse (An International Journal of Poetry)
Vol. 2. No. 1. June, 2012

on scarab's back
a skyscraper


billions of years
just to make
this cup of tea


The Muse (An International Journal of Poetry)
Vol. 1. No. 1. June, 2011

blunt opposition:
sharp blades of shivering sunbeams
chipped by pathway-dust

flame-sphere-lit sky
flux of blustering lightrays
crimson sun-onset

pine in shine-sweep
nothing save the sun and she:

tick-tack of time stops:
near the distance, a sharp blur.
parallels X-ing....


Dávid Beatrix (1976-)


Branches without leaves
forests longing for birdsongs
footprints in the sand


A song in the wind
words crying for human sounds
sunbeam among clouds

Dawn in Autumn

The berry is cold
trembling on a naked branch
hoarfrost is its coat


Its drop-wandering
biography on window
its way is fatal

Wheat Grain

Dying in winter
it resurrects in spring
its passing is life


A light-shadow game
two-faced sun's weeping and smile
a slice of life- bare


Lines of wavy sand
silent dumbness petrified
is the cry of God


All their streching arms
are revelations of thurst:
old longing for sky


A ripening fruit
its paunch is growing round-
a woman's also


Leaves losing their lives
their voices like soft whisper-
summer - farewell- songs


A toll in the wind
stumbles on clouds on its way-
will it get to you?

An autumn picture

In distant cornfields
prisoners hoeing see your soul
lying behind grates

Walk in the Zoo

Leaves with mourning souls
individuals behind grates-
being like humans?


Trees all turning grey
a quiet rustle of leaves-
like a song dying

A quarry

Cliffs, rocks and stones chiselled
screaming of cells in the wind-
like when God carving


Clay hill maturing
a pot conceived from its flesh-
Who is the Potter?


Trees losing their leaves
a soft wave of danse macabre
ripening of death


In howling high-winds
waves throughout the battlefield
closing time for souls


Chattering to trees
its moisture being life-raft
like blood in the vein

Morning Haiku

misty-faced morning
its soul loury though happy
like that of humans'


The moon is smiling
stars are browsing in the sky
searching the distance


Lake-mirror for skies
wind-whips followed by cries of
waves killing silence

Ancient Trust

A child is bathing-
like creation-aware of
floating in mercy


The night is awake-
being the shepherd of stars
now's guarding their dreams


Leaves to their branches
the beam of light to the stars
the kiss to your lips


The sun is watching
herself in the vanishing
mirror of the lakes


On a pickling branch
like human temper set free-
a bud bursts briskly

In minority

Pinewoods climbing cliffs
edelweiss-like loneliness
'their fate towards peaks


A rattling lightning
being followed by a snarl-
its spark is anger


A snow cloud sifting
snowflakes - in them harmony
is crystallizing


Mallards in the sky
their destiny's migration-
'looking for a home

The Merit of the Despised

The jug is wounded
carried only to the fields-
growing ears on its way


View in a furcoat
sleepy snowdrop as its soul
slumbering life-seed


Night creeps stealthily
cat as black as ebony
on velvet-like paws

Uncertainty of Existence

A bubbling river-
above it trembles swinging
a suspension bridge


love of russet nymphs of flame-
splendid murderes


Soft embrace of trees
their annual rings as living
signs of faithfulness


The waltz of the winds
the sounds running on the keys
hours passing by


A spring from the soul
a book conceived in muteness
still voluble though


Fábián László (1940-)


to Canaan lead -
from shadowy types to truth -
to world's wilderness


as transient things:
let the gods speak - sunless cliffs -
in days hereafter


Feldmár András (Andrew Feldmar, 1940-)

evocation 23

Alchemist of colour:
Blue bird of Paradise,
gift of red to green.

Dark attraction,
virility set on fire -
to penetrate flesh?

Acrobatic splendour,
breathless balance poised:
all for one; one for all.

Bride of Spring,
birthing gift of exploding beauty:
end all confinements!

Will to live, feathers from earth:
wind's lover,
poised to multiply.

Peacock's tail to dazzle,
rainbow's display to attract:
sex is social.

Eros is glue:
every curlicue
is geared to increase connection.

Like potters repeat perfection,
ecstatic petals
form loving cups.

Without the sun's self-immolating
generosity -
no colour.

Engorged penis, throbbing labia
never lie:
orgasm is laughter.

Machines assemble from parts,
life grows from one cell:
illusions abound.

Risk immodesty
going all out, way beyond comfort:

Wrinkles don't hurt:
gentle desiccation;
pleasure in aging, think thanks!

Lips of flowering earth
suck the dew off
cock's crow in the breeze: daybreak.

Lilac snakes, blind babes,
fireworks of glamour:
earth reaching out to air.

Lace of dew, dawning hope,
educating tender petals -
future bound.

Immigrants from the womb,
homesick for flesh:
solace is sexual bliss.

Capillaries pump nutrients
to keep alive the flame:
passing forms.

Altar for butterflies,
silent drop of water:
blue eternity.

We live expecting something
to happen: this bud is a
sweet promise.

Waiting for salvation,
faith in the elements;
nothing is certain.

Return to where I've
never been: a dream?
Unbridled art of nature.

Angels or demons, beast or beauty?
Domesticated eyes,
miss signs.


Fodor Ákos (1945-2015)

"Haiku turns two people poets, just like love makes two people lovers. The author is neither a shaman, nor a rhetor or a surgeon. Nor is the reader inferior, enduring or inert. Meeting in this focus, they loosen and get loosen up, heal and get healed, and, as long as they so desire, become something of a Third nature. It is an ascetic form, a protean genre, vivid mentality that creates rather than consumes time and space. Those who can rejoin and touch each other even for a single haiku moment are blissful." (Ákos Fodor)

"Das Haiku macht zwei Menschen zu Dichtern, so wie die Liebe zwei Menschen zu Geliebten macht. Jener, der sie niederschreibt, ist kein Schamane, kein Rhetor, kein Chirurg; jener, der sie liest, ist nicht unterworfen, nicht passiv, kein Duldender. Sich in diesem Fokus treffend, schmelzen sie dahin, heilen und werden geheilt, und werden, so lange sie es auf sich nehmen, zu etwas Drittem. Eine asketische Form, proteisches Genre, lebendige Mentalität; schafft eher Zeit und Raum, als daß es sie wegnimmt. Glücklich sind die, die sich - wenn auch nur in einem einzigen Punkt des Haiku - treffen und berühren können." (Ákos Fodor)


translated by Éva Antal

Perhaps do not even touch it.
Just look at it, look at it,
until it becomes beautiful.


translated by Éva Antal

Do you still see
what you look at, or you only
know: "there" "it" "is"?


translated by Gábor G. Gyukics and Michael Castro

fall asleep;
die the same way a child
bites into an apple.


translated by Gábor G. Gyukics and Michael Castro

I plan it as a farewell


translated by Tamás Révbíró

in front of my feet
a bird sat, and then took flight.
Now I'm heavier.


translated by Tamás Révbíró

You should try and help
everything to be the way
it is anyway.


translated by Tamás Révbíró

Don't say, "I lost it",
about anything. Rather
say, "I gave it back".


translated by Tamás Révbíró

Parents and killers:
almost-innocent servants.
They just execute.


translated by Tamás Révbíró

Look, the snow gives body to the wind!


translated by Tamás Révbíró

Why should I travel
when I can be a stranger
right here, standing still?


(from 'Etudes')
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Help everything to
be exactly the way they
are now anyway


[Every single moment]
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Every single moment
of life: just deferment: thus
value it – or not.


[From your illness]
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

From your illness do
recover. Or die of it.
- Just don’t hold it dear.


[I love you, I say.]
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

I love you, I say.
- You see: this day didn’t dawn and
hasn’t passed uselessly.


[if it is closer]
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

if it is closer:
it’s much clearer to see that
it is unreachable.


[Not even those perfect]
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Not even those perfect
days are made up of only
clear perfect moments.


[Peace is something else]
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Peace is something else,
not a pause between two wars;
good is not bad Bad.


[Some people run quickly.]
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Some people run quickly.
Some people read and write quickly.
I can feel quickly.


[Someone who would write]
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Someone who would write
shouldn’t be given any advice,
but a pen and ink.


[We’re making]
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

We’re making only
handrails, and by the time we
realize: it’s a cage.


[Who- and whatever]
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Who- and whatever
you wouldn’t be able to let go,
you are just using.


translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

- Whoever I think
of very often, does not get
exhausted from it?!


[Your melting image]
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Your melting image
keeps flowing from my eyes and
dries up on my face.


A New Grade of Crisis
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

No more is Mozart’s
music joy to me, if I
see: it disturbs some


translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

You get on well if
you step ever closer to
what you’d be scared of.


An Exercise
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

(everyday test)
Ask yourself only:
is your door important to
be locked? or opened?


Ars Poetica
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

If you want it more
splendid and lasting than tombs:
be poem – not a poet


Axiom (Besides love)
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Besides love every
single human activity
is but building ruins.


Axiom (whereso)
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

whereso, wherever
anybody says prayers:
that place is a church


translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

On my flower-petal
A raindrop: moment-diamond!
Now I am wealthy.


translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

a turnstile’s standing
in the desert. Whoever
avoids it: is not


translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Just like with machines:
I don’t understand myself
either – only use.


Educational Guidance
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Words can cry by
themselves, too. – In case you can,
just teach them to smile.


Exuberant Haiku: About Beauty
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Some are beautiful.
Others’ beauty must be discovered.
And some are beautiful
because they look like an ugly one
I love.


translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

in my inferno
things are counted and people love
temperately; they
spend but never forget time;
comment everything;
there’s only time and no space.
They just say, OF COURSE.
There’s no space, there’s only time;
people just hurry on,
possess, declare themselves and
bury, beget, bear
—there’s nothing, things just happen
in my inferno


translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Before you’re asleep
clear up: are you clean, or did
you just have a wash.


Mode Of Preparation
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Dissolve my poems in
the water of your life: just
the way you like it.


New Age
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

We’ve become so out-
spoken there’s hardly any-
thing now to speak out.


Old-Age (2.)
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

There are times when I
can only remember what
is just happening.


Quoted From The Great Cookbook
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

One of the secrets
of cooking is not to think
about washing up.


Social Life
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

I’m visiting you
so that you need not realize:
you left me behind


Some Ethics
translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Not even to a deaf
should you say what you would not
tell one who can hear.


translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Life keeps touching me.
- My heart seems never to be
old enough to know.


translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

You’ll never ever
forgive me the feeling that
you did not love me.


translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Perhaps don’t even
touch it. Just watch and watch till
it gets beautiful.


translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

The Cheerful lives well:
wise-foolishly. The Gloomy
is in the right only.


(Without address)
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Each letter will find
its recipient, if you
have written it well.


About a genius' patchwork
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Why don't you get it?
Numerous kitch-bijou is
made from finest gold! 


About forms
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Would you boil water?
– Good to place a pot between
fire and water.


About personality
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

the pictures taken
about you won't even
know one another


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

          for Christopher with love and squalor
what a Garden was!
our flower-intentions were
covered by act-weeds


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Flickering feather
on my boat's bow: I gaze it:
my forward pilot.


Answer yourself
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Is vitiation                                    
when you instruct of pleasure, 
or to sense of guilt?


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

denser the darkness
around the lantern: they are 
feeding each other


Axiom (God's not believer)
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

God's not believer.
People not democratic.
Water's not thirsty.


Axiom [whoever is not]
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

whoever is not
comforting when you caused pain
is not loving you


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Poor moon will even
be more lonely after my
tiny lake runs dry.


Closed circle
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

My tongue and your tongue 
discuss with each other what
there is no word for.


Creature's Song
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

with new eyes looking
at an old image: this is
our creation act


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

I won't give it back:    
behind my closed eyes I keep 
your Nicest Image.


Disillusionist feat
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Why should I travel,
when just standing here I still
can be a stranger.


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

My bed, my darling,
have I slept you to tired?
I get up. Please rest.


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

In the sky, congealed
marble smoke-nerve networks are      
tombstones of the wind.


Even now
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

with unfamiliar face   
I lapse into smile


Excercise (everyday test-question 2)
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Ask yourself: your door 
more important to lock it
or to open it?


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

whatever happens:
you decide if it rather
refines or erodes


Harun ar-Rasid
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

my head plunged into
The Omniscience Fountain
ignorant of me 


Hasty annoyance
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Why do I intrude
between my sight
and the looking-glass?!


K. S. – Memorial concert
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Extended wires                                 
scrubbed by the wind’s fiddlestick,
rain accompanies.


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

as the sky is made
visible by a flying
bird or a smoke-stripe


Masses & freedom
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

                                 message to Mr. P.S.
Even when they can:
they always choose the bondage.
- More stable status.


Matrimonial memorial
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

sometimes it’s c l e a n e r
to break the plate than to try
to do the washing


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Some shadows can be
surely much more meaningful
than those who cast them.


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

still, if it kills me:
please leave me behind, instead
of yourself, Darling!


Reggeli mosoly
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

                    homage à Bashô
My head and your head
kneed differing shapes into
similar pillows!


translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

Best at last to be
or not to be: rather too
much from too little.


Socialpsichological axiom
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

He, not keeping count
of others insanity,
himself is insane.


The haiku
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

bird sat at my feet
after a while it took wing -
I'm heavier now


To a virtuoso
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

I’m not able to
listen as fast as you play 
– no music with us.


Warning sign
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

All completed work 
approximates other work
that has to be done.


Weather report
translated by Czire Szabolcs; Kathleen Jacobson

In a fog-mood day
windows and mirrors do not 
wink at each other...


Futár Iván (1951-)


Painted dragonfly -
shadow of greymorning sky.
Fireless dragon.


Gergely László (1940-2010)

the spider in my bathtub doesn't want to take a shower…

doors and windows securely shut - now I am utterly free…

a fly strolls about on my screen - I don't dare to slap…

after many a days the problem came to light: a hair in my nose

taking a rest I cry out my favourite blaa-blaa-text

Wednesday comes upon Wednesday - how so shrinks a week so fast

spring flood story: a man catches fishes at the central square of the village

prayers in May: send oh God some rain - please stop it

two old glasses of mine on my nose - everything looks pretty good

translating haiku - swinging on word-lianes in the web-jungle

a few departing
yellow leaves hide some
tiny bunch of grapes

table-cloth of leaves
around the trees - winter comes
to clear the table

swirling vapor
from a sigh
it's not spring yet

the frostwork on my window
melts when you come
but runs cold if you go

warmth in November
a band of tom-tits
invades my willow

not the clouds
darken my shadow -
it is the evening

chicken liver explodes
in the micro
taste of chink orts

luminous lantern
over the silent graveyard -
glowing full moon


Gyukics Gábor (1958-)

Budapest in Three Sentences

Restructured bridges
Arch over mighty Danube
It doesnt resist.

West mingles with East
Most women have no bra on
Men eyes go goggle.

Posters flood the walls
The natives aren't amazed
The buildings don't mind.

St. Louis in Three Sentences

Wide avenues rumble
Empty cross streets bow slightly
I walk upon them.

Big river borders
Ghosts haunt downtown with ease
The Arch shines above.

Jazz trumpet plays tunes
From North to East and around
Makes it worth living.

San Francisco in Three Sentences

Mexicans sunbathe
Whites and blacks care for nothing
Asians prevail.

Hills create waves
The climates do not argue
They maintain the pace.

The beats are long gone
Attitude replaced the groove
Memory remains.

Brooklyn in Three Sentences

Latino heaven
Polish butcher stores avail
Russians run the joints.

Brownstones have a price
Yuppie tenants on the rise
Leaves cover the ground

Boardwalk leads the way
All who enter the city
Find a wrought village.

Some Haiku

Ants on sunflowers
Crawl to gather gray striped
Seeds for the winter


Trees of fallen leaves
Diligently fight against
Our human tempest


Beautiful embrace
Whispers angel-lip music
Wild tear drops smile


On rusty branches
As I watch them from your room
Woodpeckers knocking


Poisonous beauty
Drags the season of dreams that
Hasn't arrived yet



Evening breeze vibrates
Rusty autumn eyelashes
Shy tear drops gather

El Nino

The hiding tempest
Reveals her spitting power
Waters a flower

Blue Chaos

It is not, not us
The blue moon bravely shining
Tangled up chaos


Hetesi Péter Pál (1963-2012)
(Pseudonyms: Swami Tuaredo; hepepe)

Cybersutra Suite

At the 7th Stone

One Sip of Skylence:
Now I got to create my
own Reality.

Six Feet under the
Horizon the Way crosses
Prospero's Stairways.

In the Focuse of
equilateral Triangle
the Doors are open…


Broken Soundz of Nite

Monsters & Demons
were stormin' in the Basement
of your Universe.

Broken Soundz of Nite.
Anger. Mortal Fear. Depression.
Manuscript of Storm.

Cosmic Accidents.
Let off your bad Tunes and Waves.
It's all over now.



Knowhereland. Forest.
The Blue turns moss - green. How can
I learn to fly now?

Our Rainbow Palais
recovers in Labyrinth
of Crystal Fire…

Mistake your Past for
Future like anybody
else. Shine your Palette.


Haiku Tripthichon I.

Moonbeam splashes down.
Irregular Vibrations
elf the scraped Sky.

Weaponless Wedding.
Pearls are liyn' low. The Paths
never fade away.

Flush Years are troopin':
Manouevre of Ants. Hide me
Hole of Emptiness…


Haiku Triptichon II.

Light Coke. Cigarettes.
Deatbeat Drum and Bass Nite. Too
wide, too deep, to dark.

Techno from Moscow.
Freeform free Drumz of Freedom.
Cybersutra suite.

Error in Mirror.
Terror Diffusion. I'd like
2 remix my Life…


Haiku Triptichon III.

The Monk went back home.
FairyTales navigate him
'cross the Universe!

Marilyn Monroe
is on the Road again. I'm
waitin' 4 my Sun.

Holy Emptiness.
Jesus is sleepin' in the
Shadow of Buddha...


Prima Materia

Gape! Bum! Be boob!
Forget everything what you
Can. You never die…

Saraswati dances
with my dragons & dolphins.
on Diamond - Raibow...

Moon over the Sea.
Silver Symbol flickers on Waves.
Atlantis awake!

Cyberpest - 2005.08.01. 14:52


Horváth Márton (1941-)

Nine haiku

Migrating swallows.
My shiny pebbles also

Distant train whistle
grass grows between my teeth
my face a wild goose.

Ah, fox girls
Jasmine scented icon
fallen from a book.

Like pebbles in the mouth,
my heart slowly melts.
Poppies blooming.

Green deep secret, lust white
a row of teeth opening.

Resting - snow and silence
white-glowing solitude
green mistletoe on the tree.

Hedge rose flower,
a slight wind can blow away
your light colours.

Pale sunshine.
Raven sits on a pole,
your eyes are turning green.

Few leaves at the top
my love bleeds on
my faded cloak.


Káliz Endre (1954-)

slow breeze
bristles my green tea on a stone

at the old duck's bay
in the pagoda of pain
poet sings for his nymphe

stone-buddha singing
dancing in the lukewarm rain
dog-latin of mine

crescent kills desert
sad sand kills wind and mummies
slave-girl is kissing

river pays short waves
violoncello by my side
no-one on the earth

flute swimming at night
souls discovering bodies
the paradise lost

soft breeze is boring
listening to fidelio
nouns in the basket

in thy orisons
repeat my name milady
snows of yester-year

wavering donna
mitigates my solitude
oh blood sweat and tears

the moon drinks cruel time
they are loving me again
your smiling bosoms

two ducks on the shore
your small jade-clit is gazing
kind crystal gazing

on the long silk road
fire and water sleeping deep
kiss the monk, camel

fly do fly away
my small sweet sandesha-swan
is she still living?

two soft pears lie
lucky liars are never blue
and me. the sad poet?

a rolling stone sings
the ever laziest flies fly
money on the road

mute jazz is drinking
at the dark corner two men
me and ganesha

8 Haikus


herbstliche liebe
mit der wind gegangene
so bald wird beschneit...

blaues himmelchen
ißt kleine weiße wolke
dort spaziert der wind

gelbe straßenbahn
fährt doch nicht zur traumfrau
so weit als sklavin...

käse und rotwein
warten auf dem tisch auf uns
wo bleibst du, engel...

die sonne schwimmt auf
und so sprach zarathustra
lieb dieses mädchen...

wann dein kitzler oh
meine zunge küßt, geniß'
ich den himmel still...

stiller mondschein lacht
runder po süßer abend
küßt seele zärtlich...

der schöner wiesel
wartet auf grüner wiesel
auf dich mein schätzchen...


Kántor János Kurszán (1941-)
English versions by Ferenc Bakos

though the cage is open
yet she keeps flying back.

Groveland scene:
a footpath sign for
stray butterflies.

Under your mask
bygone carnivals examine
grief and pleasure.

Shivery spiders
in a desolate field shelter -
sex is over.

Four Profane Pieces

dewy rose
in glare of the sun
losing virginity

on my begonia's
snow-white petal -
an ugly blowfly!

pouring rain -
peeping from under
my sweetheart's skirt

kissing my bottom
without any shame:
a lurking flea

English version by Anatoly Kudryavitsky

an arrow in the grove
showing the direction
to butterflies


Mándy Gábor (1945-)

Haiku exercises

Standing by a creek,
I'm watching a little bird,
thirsty for a kiss.

Nothing is moving.
The bird and I are silent --
tamed by each other.

Your clothing all dropped.
The flames of your body burn.
Tears in my eyes.

The bird is now gone.
Her song is here for a while,
but fading away.

The wind is chilly.
The sky is crowded with stars.
Of them you are one.

The snow is falling,
there are sparkles in the ice
on my frozen heart.

The rose in the field.
Trotten down so many times!
It's growing downwards.


Have Haiku

Been robbed, gotten sick,
grown old and lost everything:
these are all I have.


Molcer Mátyás (1935-)

Mathias Molcer: Aufgebrochene Flöte, Übertragung von Dr. Marthe Pfeiffer, Subotica, 2009 (Der Originaltitel: Tört fuvolára. Illustration: Mathias Molcer)


Németh Péter Mikola (1953-)

English versions by Szepesi Beatrix


For Zoltán Szügyi

Burning mirror-death:
pupa-body, butterfly-soul
winging its flight-fate.


The death of the self
is a Never-Bird passing
from the nest of life.


Don't worry, it is always
the other who dies, not you.

Heart growing heavy.
And still it is able to rise.
– „ Ecce homo !”


Masks on the faces.
Salt, water and bloody sweat.
– The crucified's dead!


Gravestone is his back.
He's lavish in spending blood
on a burial shroud.


The air rings with bells.
The bottom of hills tremble.
Resurrection it is!


Starlight in the sea.
Hollow sky at early dawn.

English versions by Bea Jusze

(Impressione to Pál Szinyei Merse's paintings)

For Zsófia + Kristóf, the two wayfarers and brush-murderers


In the shade of stacks
Sweet-smelling hay embraces
you and me – alone.


Lark song in the sky
Injures the landscape around:
- Heavenly  passion.


Salt-sprinkled feathers
are dancing waltz in the light.
Such a grave presence.


My winking eyelids
open a field of poppies
into the distance.


Faun's hot desire
booms filling the air with
sounds of temptation.


Behind the fleeces,
prancing and dancing alone
the cold Sunlit Moon.


Lady in violet
poses in the lap of nil,
pondering idly.


On Led Zeppelin
we escape into the blue sky
with the help of air.


In Merse's landscape
divine dispensation can
turn into Still-life.


Oravecz Imre (1943-)


on Midwest

they are making pigs
out of corn, freedom, history
out there in Iowa

on a direction

travelling day and night,
seeking the western way lost
both inside, outside

on a stop

coyote's body
run over on 80 West,
the view undamaged

on Nevada

sagebrush, sand and sign,
buckaroo's trail continues
in deserted minds

on California

captain Sutter still
trying to prevent some people
from making gold rush

on a late night show

John Wayne on tv
accidentally involved
in a commercial

Egy földterület növénytakarójának változása,
Magvetõ Könyvkiadó, Budapest, 1979, 66-67. oldal


Pachnik Zoltán (1958-)

Christmas Eve -
lonely granny at the station:
shelter till midnight mass.


Szennay Ilona (1958-)



from Holy Heigh
to the consacreted depth
falling late dew

In memoriam Sándor Reményik

marvellous petals
looming soft infinity
snow-flakes of delight

Spring Watercolour

light rose plum-blossom
wet with early morning dew
misty mountains

Spring Surprise

from under a mound
of mould-green soaked cardboard
springing forth hyacint

For Engagement

soft apple-blossom
golden patch of dandelions
humming honey bees


on limestone hills
among immortalles
tulips are dreaming


blood red blossom
of a pomegranate tree
your testimony


Small honey-spiders
are swarming on garden gate.
Climb over the fence!


standing on a crag
large rhododendron-valley
unfolded before us


Old Lake

spacious blue dome
white cloudlet petals
Holy Wind

approaching night
on the avenue of poplars
dancing gold rays

cicadas’ chirp
a patch of St. John’s wort
in sunset flames


on the tip of a stalk
dazzling violet flower
in the midday light

Deserted Garden

fuzzy mint flowers
bloomy dark-violet petals
buzzing honey-bees


St. John’s wort colour
shadow on the church tower
sunset blood


tip of a poplar
top of a dreaming haycock
closer to the sky


cool-white mud walls
in the ramshackle farmhouse
no scorching sunshine

In the Garden

yellow and orange
small pot marigold faces
shining summer-smile


rust-coloured clouds
your clotted blood on the grass
bumble-bees’ buzz

Scenes of Vácrátót

bright-green duckweed
dragonflies above the swamp
lazy water

lonely water mill
on the mossy rock of brook
heavy crystaldrops


Flies are tasting
the sweet apricot juice.
Jam is beeing canned.


In the Churchyard

under the maple
a lizard is sunbathing
on a black marble slab

Göd in October

chilly morning
wind of autumn is swirling
the thick leafcarpit


old russet cat
is sitting on the dry leaves
waiting for the train

Autumn Pictures

yellow robinia leaf
got stuck to the cobweb
twirling in the light

silver poplar leaf
is falling on the gravel path
rustling loudly

golden rays of light
are filtering through the shutters
late autumn gingko-leaves

colourful morning
shining Persian magic tree
in gloomy autumn


In Memoriam Matsuo Basho

in the stream of chattering
your heavy words

Original Sin

on the delicate petals
of a daisy
unspongable spots

Archive Photograph

wide open eyes
a brave palm
last handshake
the movement
of your waving

Leafless Garden

dry fallen leaves
little blackbird is jumping
echos in the street

fog is falling
dogs are barking loudly
the mask is off

storm-wind has come
leaf-dresses have fallen
no shelter


shining crystaldrops
on the sea-green leaves of grass
ebb and flow


on the maple-tree
a single bright-red leaf
blazing tongue of flame

Winter Pictures

fresh green grass
first snow in November
unexpected death

wanderer’s straw hat
on a dead olive branch
covered with snow


frost nips the rosehips
deep red blood drops in the snow
Sleeping Beauty


dusty pebbles
hidden crystal-light
in the mineral

Sunset in January

on the rustling leaves
of a Persian magic tree
old gold raindrops


appearing sometimes
through a windy dream-slit
miraculous gull

In the Wood

cool barks of beech wood
sunshine breaks through the leaves
dry-blue streambed

Varna in September

screeming seagulls
rustling plane-leaves
are swept away

On the Way Home

in the thick of the fog
appears the misty-blue sky
glimmer of hope

Misty Morning

crumbling tree trunks
red leaves under a maple
lonely benches

Philemon and Baucis

two trebling poplars
a spreading and a strong one
burning stubble-field


Tandori Dezsõ (1938-2019)


was du warst, war immer "zu":
viel, wenig, früh, spät.


Translated by Alan E. Williams

Already half past two!
How quickly a year has passed.


Koan I.
Translated by Alan E. Williams

Further from you?
Closer to you?
Neither from you nor to you.
Neither near or far.


Koan III.
Translated by Zoltán András Bán

Silence instead of sound,
But silence instead of what?


The Road to Damascus
Translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

Now, when just the same as ever,
it's high time that.


[I fell apart]
Translated by N. Ullrich Katalin

I fell apart to
the one and only bit that
I've been all the time.


Rattling-pebble in a jar
Translated by P. T.

Almost; (not I:
I not.)


Tarnoc, Jon (Tarnóc János, 1964-)


Terebess Gábor (1944-)
.....Haiku in the Luggage
.....Translated from the Hungarian by Jon Tarnoc
.....Published by artORIENT Press, 2006, 208 pp.


Török Attila (1967-)


fall, and I'm watching
the leaves of an old maple
as they fall

(Practical English Teaching, June 1991)


freight train chugs along
its sight muffled by the fog
but oh, not the sound

(October 22, 2004)


scanning old loose-leaf
manuscripts with a tea bag
soaking in my cup

(October 22, 2004)


Vihar Béla (1908-1978)

we are two at the birth
we are two in love, lonely
at the time of death


Vihar Judit (1944-)

birds singing,
the pear-tree flowering:
gulash soup on the simmer
(English version by Anatoly Kudryavitsky)

Let thousand ikebana
decorate your grave
and a haiku-string.
(In Memoriam Erika Schwalm, 17 December 2005)

At early morning
we are in bed comfortably -
bomb outrage

(English version by the author)

Behind an old hut
I drink from the well of
the Past.

(English version by the author)


Vörös István (1964-)



New Year, new morning.
The palms of our hands fill up
with last year's racket.


He doesn't yet know
what to think of you. Time was,
he was an angel.



The armed knight of the
shortest month is on his guard.
If he's scared, snow falls.


On his neck, three points.
In the middle of his brown
eye, see black and white.



What is holy? Don't
even think about this, the
snowdrop bloom told me.


Her smile regards us,
but her regard is a smile.
Loneliness in spring.



The self-confident
clown surveys us through his mask.
We sit near a chair.


Laughing man pulls out
the air from underneath us.
He's concerned for it.



Unsuspecting bloom.
Round this time, resurrection
is compulsory.


If resurrection's
compulsory, was living?
And was sleeping, too?



Cart-driver, skipper,
do you cruise seas, or set sail
for a poppy field?


He feeds a donkey
of his own imagining.
His look heals angels.



Pirate of summer
Takes down the sun from the top
of God's lofty head.


He sees back to front.
The past's a secret to him,
the future - boring.



Love is not a game.
The deer sees the snake in the
base of the haystack.


She see that which is
not. She smiles because it is.
What will be will be.



Stripes on his forehead:
three colors. On his hand: one.
A single ripe grape.


What lies behind the
spectacle? Muddy fruit skin
collects by the well.



Frost on the forest.
Oh, where did the present go?
When will the past come?


Knowing how to laugh
means you know it all. If you
know it all, why ask?



Light of late autumn.
You wake to the mist of dreams.
Just a mouth is red.


She knows something. Don't
ask, for she'll answer. She'll take
it into her head.



White Christmas. The sun
goes down over snowy coal.
And it isn't cold.


The earth-ghost in front
of a black wall of water.
Mountain air blows by.



This cold winter burns.
It's not easy to be good.
Even gloves don't help.


You have no time left.
You can only pay up once.
Money is not time.