A translated tale of desire and nostalgia by Hungarian playwright and novelist Ödön von Horváth,who was killed by a falling tree branch in 1938By Ödön von Horváth and Linda Baker for for Translation Tuesdays by Asymptote, part of the Guardian Books NetworkHow calm it is in autumn, and a unusual and unearthly calm.
Everything is just as it always was,it seems nothing has changed. Neither the marsh nor the farmland, not the fir trees on the hills, and not the lake. Nothing. Only that summer’s gone. October’s finish. And already late in the afternoon.
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Source: theguardian.com