Victory Sort Of

Van Gogh's Prayer

by János Pilinszky

A battle lost in the cornfields
and in the sky a victory.
Birds, the sun and birds again.
By night, what will be left of me?

By night, only a row of lamps,
a wall of yellow clay that shines,
and down the garden, through the trees,
like candles in a row, the panes;

there I dwelt once and dwell no longer—
I can't live where I once lived, though
the roof there used to cover me.
Lord, you covered me long ago.

5 thoughts on “Victory Sort Of

  1. You know. I don’t think I can emphasize enough how wonderful I think your pictures and words are. You have a fascinating mind and eye and I truly respect it. You engage the world.

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