Twice the number of passing gent doubled
Blinking for all that dust, seeds of birth
Relaxed feeling of a sinking sun
Reflected in the Duna through the queens of Buda
Repeated the words of a picture, I thought
Shining from the top of that hill I thought
I saw you standing among those misrepresentations
Buda has one empty heart I imagined
Stone walk up to the rear of the great hungarian hills
I threw a stone back to the sun
Imagined the forest which leads
Through the labyrinth of Pest
Into the sunlight your reflection
Threw upon me, my memory.
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