The memorial plaque of Géza Szőcs was inaugurated in Cluj. The 12th Hungarian Days in Cluj. That would be the news. Marginal notes by the author of the other lines.
There is the poet's image cast in metal, right in the center of Cluj, on the wall of the house next to Sétatér, where he lived. (By the way, Tibor Kolozsi's work is one of the most beautiful memorial plaques I've ever seen...if fate has it that way.)
Very good. That's what survivors do. To remember. This would also be the job of the treasured city. But no, it was not Cluj that set up the sign. The city is amnesiac for now.
Many were present. On the one hand, those who recited Géza Szőcs' poems, sang his poems set to music, and gave commemorative speeches.
On the other hand, those who had to be there. They could have beckoned to the poet, who turned to the place from which he had not actually left.
A program booklet and a badge were distributed at the entrance. On the badge is Géza Szőcs, in his mouth - hey, hair, my jataganam! – with a red rose. One might smile at the sight of the badge, but then... really, Géza Szőcs can be pinned anywhere - on a window sill, a church tower, a mountaintop, a country house - for example as a flag. Which, as long as it stands, is a sure point during the undulations of the borders being pulled back and forth: until then, the right direction can be followed.
If I may recommend: walk there, towards the house next to Sétatér, and if you see the poet's face on that brick wall, maybe read this, for example ( here ):
A girl from the last century is waiting,
standing by the window and talking like this:
If I were the pronoun
and he was the name!
If he were a consonant
and I were the other,
if he were the eye
and I the vision!
If he was the heart
and I was the beat!
If it were a consonant,
if he were ag,
I wish
I could be the é;
or he would be, let's say, av,
this
way I could be
his
.
Source: foter.ro / Jean St'Ay
