Facing the noise

I sit facing the noise, With my mouth agape Watching the old man the greyish thicket. Smoke comes from his pipe, And his eyes are pensive. The Earth trembles with his knowledge, The old goat licks the salt! Good! Good! Meek, meek... The noisiest thing is silence, The wind and the words. The wind becomes a whirlwind, And so will the end...

Mezei Karsa XII. H