Heavens, 'tis dusk already!

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Poems by Attila József

The Seventh

If in this world you lay a claim,
let seven births be your aim!
Once be born in a burning home,
once in a flood in an icy storm,
once in a clinic where the mad retreat,
once in a field of bending wheat,
once in a cloister with a hollow ring,
once in a sty with a pigsty stink.
The six cry out, but which is key?
You yourself the seventh be!

Read the rest of this evocative poem at Exquisite Corpse (scroll down a bit)

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    Maybe we can help change that!
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    No one reads Attila József.
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