By Attila Jozsef, 1927, translation by Peter Szabo , 2003
My good aunt Lily’s brother here, Living his life just on plain bread, Batu Khan’s Budapest relative, didn’t have rings, azure duvet; for whose poem death with mumps in large kettle’ s boiling beans- hey bourgeois! hey, proletar!- me, Jozsef Attila, I’m here!
Top answer
Where? proletar or bourgeois?
— Maj
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My sister Lidi’s brother said He’s kin to Batu khan, in Pest, From his first year survives on bread, No sky-blue quilt on which to rest. From fathom-wide pots death will dole Out cooked beans for his poetry. You ask his name, hey! bourgeois, prole? Attila József. Look at me.