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My precious heart, my handsome soldier son,
I write this letter with my blood to you.
Since you’ve had to take the Kaiser’s shilling
our world has turned red of a fiery hue.
The big decisive battle…
The dreadful angel in me is invisible
today, his screeching almost still.
You startle at its whisper. Is it
someone come to pay a visit
or a grasshopper tapping at the sill?
It’s he. Oh, he is…
Great was the joy in the mid-1950s in Budapest’s Klauzál Square, in the house of a widow with many children. Those lining up before her vegetable stand in the market saw her smile for the first time…