Right by the Parliament in Budapest sits a man with a hat, looking lost and sad. This is Attila Jozsef, a Hungarian poet of the 20th Century. A sad figure he was, as he showed signs of schizophrenia and withdrew into his poetry. At the age of 32 he was crushed by a starting train while crawling through the railway tracks. Whether this was an accident or a suicide nobody knows.
And so I've found my native country, that soil the gravedigger will frame, where they who write the words above me do not for once misspell my name. | ||
— Attila József, And so I've found my native country… (first stanza) |
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