ELVIS IN HUNGARY
Elvis lives in the heart of the Hungarian plain.
At the Nameth Laszlo high school gym
where I’ve come to help the kids speak English
Nothing but a hound dog blasts from a black box
to celebrate tomorrow’s commencement rites.
A few students hum, three boys with headbands
and hippie wigs strum chords, the shortest
thrusting his hips back and forth.
Soft laughter, light applause.
Everyone is tired.
Even the young, as if the wheels of history
made a dead stop before they were born.
With a shrug in their voices and downward lilt
they say I don’t know when I ask
their greatest wishes. Maybe a house, a job,
a motor bike. Sleep.
None dreams about black horses
galloping across the plain from distant steppes,
riders on fire, flashing swords and shouting
words no one else can speak
to keep out the Ottomans, Austrians,
Nazis, Russians, hip-hop, Burger King,
porno flicks. Nobody weeps to gypsy violins,
dances the czardas, wears brightly embroidered
blouses and skirts, wonders about life
before microwaves and computers.
Suddenly I feel at home.
A few students hum, three boys with headbands
and hippie wigs strum chords, the shortest
thrusting […….
Авторитетная точка зрения, познавательно…..
Я думаю, что Вы допускаете ошибку. Предлагаю это обсудить….
A few students hum, three boys with headbands
and hippie wigs strum chords, the shortest
thrusting […….
Мне очень жаль, ничем не могу Вам помочь. Я думаю, Вы найдёте верное решение….
http://rel” rel=”nofollow”> where I’ve come to help the kids speak English
Nothing but a hound dog blasts from a black box
to celebrate tomorrow’s commencement rites…..