Although István Bella was born in Székesfehérvár, he developed his awareness in Keresztúr. It was there that he waited in vain for his father, who had disappeared during the Second World War, and where his mother raised him alone as a war orphan. It was there, too, that he was taught to write by the legendary teacher Margit Ünnep, immortalised in verse.
He received the Kossuth Prize just in time. Indeed, in time, as the Lord called him early. I believe that, even so, his oeuvre is not a fragment. It is whole and complete. A faithful reflection of his era. Just as the works of those belonging to Hetek [a group of poets], such as József Ratkó, László Kalász, or Sarolta Raffai, have now become. And it is fortunate that István Ágh, Ferenc Buda, and Simon Serfőző are still with us. And since this group has been mentioned, naturally, each of them has walked and continues to walk their own path, but it is good to know that, in this crumbling world, such affiliations still exist. They are bound by faith, loyalty, and the ideal of quality.
Among them, perhaps István Bella is the ‘most poetical’ of poets. He did not write novels, short stories, or essays. For him, poetry was almost the sole medium. It is true that he translated the Polish Romantic masterpiece Pan Tadeusz by Adam Mickiewicz, but even in drama, he remained a poet. As he did in all his other translations. It is also true that he wrote a play titled Margit-passió (lit. The Passion of Margit), but even there, he remained a poet in an era when other ‘trends’ were more prevalent. His lyrical oeuvre serves as proof that there is never a time when we do not need the power of words that reach from soul to soul. Words that are almost unspeakable. And it also proves that tradition and modernity cannot be played against one another. Often, he spoke in an archaic language, yet with a very contemporary voice, and in structured forms, he would speak about the most novel things.
From the first collection, Szaggatott világ (lit. Torn World) in 1966, until his death, this poetic journey has been ongoing. Criticism quickly took note of Bella’s exceptional talent, recognising him as the continuation of the lyrical world marked by Attila József, as well as the fertile influence of poets like Gyula Illyés, László Nagy, or Ferenc Juhász. This oeuvre also indicates that continuity in Hungarian poetry is of particular importance, and along with it, of course, the constant intention for renewal. A poet of this kind always seeks to navigate and make sense of the maze of history and social existence. How to stand firm in the passing of time, taking on the experiences of predecessors and using them to build a new moral and artistic world. Just as his peers, István Bella is characterised by thinking in terms of people and nation, with a sense of duty to his subject and his predicate...
Such an oeuvre is capable of soothing the conflicting emotions of our fragmented times, of ensuring that those who wish to understand each other with words do not drift irreversibly apart. (In fact, Bella’s funeral itself was a beautiful example of this: people who rarely exchanged words now stood side by side at his grave.) When Bella and his contemporaries set out, largely in the 1960s, they were guided by numerous dreams, many of which proved unfulfilled. It is true that the world was undergoing significant changes at the time, both at home and abroad. For us, it was particularly the air of the 1950s that had grown stifling. However, it is also a fact that these dreams hardly ever came to fruition. This, however, does not diminish the merits of the poet of the ‘torn world’ or the purity of his intentions. His morality, a ‘pure heart’ approach, remains intact.
Earlier, in 1956, the revolution and its fight for freedom inspired him, and the young secondary grammar school student from Székesfehérvár was swept up by it. He took part in several movements and went to Csór to collect food and clothing for the people of Budapest. This was an important period of his awakening, and it also resulted in poetry. For example, Kollégium (lit. Halls of Residence) was written in December 1956:
“Fél öt.
Kint katonák menetelnek.
Az élők
rabjai lettek a rendnek.
Sóhajt,
a falról a lepkecsönd rebben,
egy sóhajt
fojt el az ész a szívemben.”
(lit. “Half past four.
Soldiers are marching outside.
The living
have become the slaves of order.
A sigh,
the silence of a butterfly flutters from the wall,
a sigh
that reason stifled in my heart.”)
Let us not forget: this concise work was written by a 16-year-old boy! A talent that records a world similar to the poems of Ferenc Buda, a future contemporary and peer, who was four years older than Bella. (We know that Buda had to endure a one-year prison sentence because of a few of his poems. In those, the motif of ‘order’ also takes on a special tone.) Here, with Bella, the lack of freedom characterises the oppressive reality, and it shows that he, too, is not sympathetic to the kind of order that arrived among us with bayonets and tanks. How closely related is this view to Attila József’s concept of freedom and order, where the freedom that gives rise to order is the standard! And there are other remarkable lyrical moments from this time, such as A ligetben ma újra láttam (lit. In the Park, I Saw Again) from the same year. I will quote all eight lines: “A ligetben ma újra láttam, / vérszaggal terhes este volt. / Csak állt a kopott kiskabátban, / vérében haldokolt a hold. // Felhuhogott egy ócska fegyver. / A félelem szívemre dobta. / Élet vagy halál? Szerelemmel / néztünk a célzó csillagokba.” (lit. “In the park, today I saw again, / the evening was burdened with the smell of blood. / He stood in his worn-out jacket, / the moon was dying in his blood. // An old weapon howled. / Fear threw itself upon my heart. / Life or death? With love, / we looked at the aiming stars.”). With delicate tools, the young poet reveals what weighs on his heart, showing what characterises the ‘blood-scented’ evening. If Attila József’s name was invoked earlier, now it is clear that Sándor Petőfi’s concept of ‘freedom and love’ serves as the basis for the imagery. This is Bella’s approach – distinctly 20th-century, his own, using images and word choices that set him apart. These early works of his mean more than typical ‘early poems’. Many of them anticipate his later, greater works, those that eventually secured his place at the forefront of Hungarian poetry.
After Szaggatott világ (lit. Torn World), the remarkable poetry collections followed, and their author became one of the most recognised and respected poets of his era. His body of work includes poems that, as is often said, have become anthology pieces, each offering a glimpse into the arc of his career. It is no coincidence that the 1992 Testamentom (lit. Testament) anthology, published by Zrínyi Publishing House, includes not only the title poem but also the following works: Halotti beszéd (lit. Funeral Sermon), Sárkeresztúri ének (lit. Song of Sárkeresztúr), Szeretkezéseink (lit. Our Lovemaking), Az a jegenye, az a jegenye (lit. That Poplar Tree, That Poplar Tree), Latinovits Zoltán (lit. Zoltán Latinovits), Sirató (lit. Lament), Hervay Gizellának (lit. To Gizella Hervay), Arccal a földnek (lit. Face to the Ground), Székely Dózsa György imája (lit. The Prayer of Székely Dózsa György), A Föld-, Hold-, Égember elsiratása (lit. The Lament of the Earth, Moon, and Sky-Man). It is indisputable that, by the time of its release, each of these poems was among the most significant, but it is also true that any anthology could be expanded or modified.
For those familiar with István Bella’s oeuvre, it is clear that these works provide a way for us to approach the totality of his poetic world, naturally without claiming completeness. This is a body of work in which the national existential questions play as important a role as the culture of the peoples he considers related, the fate of his prominent contemporaries, the spirituality rooted in his homeland, and, in its natural form, love. Love – one of the most important human values. Likewise, these works are significant in an aesthetic sense, as they are excellent examples of Bella’s use of language, his talent for language creation, and his ability to blend folklore and archaism with real 20th-century modernity. This lyrical world is incredibly rich, where free verse and song are equally present, as is the deep depiction of tragedy, accompanied by playfulness. The latter, in the sense of Attila József, or following in the footsteps of Sándor Weöres, to whom Bella even dedicated a poetic cycle. To a poet whose world differs significantly from his, yet the ideal of quality, the thorough knowledge of the craft, and the skilful versification connect them.
The first of Bella’s great poems, in chronological terms, is Sárkeresztúri ének (lit. Song of Sárkeresztúr), which appeared in his 1975 volume A hetedik kavics (lit. The Seventh Pebble). At first glance, one might assume that the poem is about honouring and celebrating the village that raised him. We know well what Sárkeresztúr meant to István Bella, as he spoke about it in the Hungarian Television film Szülőföldem: Sárkeresztúr (lit. My Homeland: Sárkeresztúr), guiding viewers through the triad of the village, Székesfehérvár, and Budapest. In several other poems, he also speaks beautifully of his birthplace – for instance, in Sárkeresztúri litánia (lit. Litany of Sárkeresztúr), where he plays with the village’s name:
“Szép és igaz a falum neve
sár is, kereszt is, úr is,
Mint minden ember élete
sár is, kereszt is, úr is.”
(These lines appear as well on the memorial plaque mounted since 2011 on the wall of the village cultural centre, commemorating the poet.)
However, Song of Sárkeresztúr speaks of something else as well. Here, the poet moves beyond what we would traditionally call ‘homeland poetry’, and we witness the birth of a truly powerful synthesis. It is no exaggeration to say that its horizons carry universal validity – indeed, the poem might have been born anywhere. It evokes ancient shamanic chants, the songs of chosen figures who communed with supernatural beings. Of course, this cannot be taken literally in relation to István Bella’s poetic method, but one might say that such a work can only be created in a special state of grace. The depiction of individual and collective destiny merges here; the experience rooted in the homeland widens into a universal perspective. Through it, we travel in both time and space, and layers of lyricism stack upon one another. “Szanaszét széledt ujjaimmal / elveszett koponyám most megkeresem…” (lit. “With my fingers scattered everywhere / now I search for my lost skull…”) So begins the poem, with its distinctive language and mysterious tone. The message is rooted in ancientness, conveyed with great intensity and visual power. This is one of the principal strands of Bella’s oeuvre – the line of richly textured, formally inventive, deeply sensitive poems. The poet himself said of this work: “This made me believe that I have poems worthy of human speech.”
Just as central to this poetic lineage is Az a jegenye, az a jegenye (lit. That Poplar Tree, That Poplar Tree), included in the 1977 collection Igék és igák (lit. Verbs and Yokes). This poem continues the tone of the earlier one. Here, too, we find the tension between the narrower and broader spheres of experience. The image of the decaying poplar becomes a symbol – what was once triumphant now stands as a figure of defeat, emblematic of rapidly passing life and swift destruction. Bella conveys this only indirectly, while the poem simultaneously rises to almost hymnic elevation. There is also a specific historical layer, visible in lines such as: “Az a jegenye… mintha az írás vérzene…” (lit. “That poplar… as though the writing bled…”). Here, references to the famous Tihanyi Alapítólevél [Establishing Charter of the Abbey of Tihany, a document known for including the oldest written words in the Hungarian language, 1055] bridge centuries within the poem. The death of the tree thus connects historical epochs and grand ideas. Throughout these works – and in many others – Bella captures tragic moments of Hungarian history and communal fate, giving voice to suffering while, indirectly, performing a work of spiritual release. He does so as a responsible thinker, an intellectual who carries the burdens and hopes of his community, following in the tradition of Mihály Vörösmarty and others.
It is Vörösmarty whom Bella evokes with striking lyrical force and tension in Testamentom (lit. Testament). The poet who envisioned national annihilation, who pursued the memory of past glory, who created heroes in search of happiness, who lamented 1848–49 in almost surreal images, who described humanity as “dragon’s teeth field”, and who raised grave questions about the usefulness of books. Yet he also pronounced the moral imperative: “here you must live and die”. Bella calls upon this predecessor in an elevated, almost romantic tone, with a dignified, weighty language worthy of the poet he invokes. The message addressed to the present is unmistakable: “Ne legyen hamu a szó, ne legyen por a lélek… se lucska a létnek, mit az idő… kikapar…” (lit. “Let the word not be ash, let the soul not be dust… nor the mire of existence dug out by time…”) He proclaims the meaning and irreplaceability of writing: “Ahol elég a szó, elég a lélek is…” (lit. “Where the word suffices, the soul suffices too…”). Interestingly, the written words could have different meanings, as the closed ‘e’ version of ‘elég’ (enough) would not precede the ashes… Here, of course, the open ‘e’ version is meant. And Testamentom (lit. Testament), the great work dedicated to ‘Old Gypsy Mihály’, places the national fate issues, the mission of literature, and the poet’s responsibility at the centre, with very powerful artistic tools.
At least as intense is the much-quoted Halotti beszéd (lit. Funeral Sermon). (The title, taken from the earliest Hungarian text, has been used by other poets as well – Dezső Kosztolányi, Sándor Márai.) Bella’s version intertwines ancient Hungarian linguistic elements with his own defining personal tragedy: the loss of his father. The father becomes almost mythic, yet through him the poet expresses the suffering of an entire people. The poem’s particular, almost magical mode of expression allows for multiple interpretations – most notably in the fourfold invocation: “Gyere, fiam, menjünk el apánkhoz.” (lit. “Come, my son, let us go to our father.”). The poet may be addressing his own son, yet the plural allows for generalisation: a collective call to revisit the fathers’ graves. Through the imagery, we see ‘the grave-less graves’ of the Second World War’s Eastern Front, the snow-covered earth, but other eras and battlefields also emerge. The poem spans centuries, evoking origins, dispersal, and the deep structures of cultural memory. It shows kinship with Feledésből az emlékmű (lit. From Oblivion, the Monument), by Serfőző Simon, which similarly struggles to preserve remembrance against the threat of forgetting. Both poems are works of clarification that confront national and historical trauma. Bella’s Funeral Sermon spans several temporal layers and reminds us of a simple truth: we must go to the graves of our fathers – symbolically and literally. Only then can reconciliation and true self-understanding come into being. Bella expresses this in vivid, emotionally charged verse.
It is also part of the full truth that, in the 1980s, István Bella – through his lyrical tools – became part of the great change. He did not take on a political role, unlike some of his contemporaries such as György Konrád, István Eörsi, Árpád Göncz, Sándor Csoóri, Sándor Lezsák, István Csurka, and others. Perhaps his temperament wouldn’t have suited such a role. Yet, with the force of his words and the momentum of his poems, he still belonged – and continues to belong – to the ranks of the ‘change-makers’. His 1988 volume stands as evidence of this, with poems such as the title piece:
“Igen: az arcom porból, hamuból.
Igen: hamu és por a fényem.
De ha már visszahazudol
a földbe, az arcom visszakérem…”
(lit. “Yes: my face is made of dust, of ash.
Yes: my light is dust and ash.
But if you deceive your way back to the earth,
I demand my face back…”)
And from here, it is only a few steps to the 1991 collection Arccal a földnek (lit. Face to the Ground). The title itself clearly signals that the tragic consequences of the revolution he experienced in his youth are the subject of this book. The material is, of course, not one-dimensional. In certain poems, the poet approaches death and the national questions of fate, while at the same time speaking to children. (One of the significant areas of his poetry is his children’s poems – just think of his famous Áni Máni series!) While the subject matter isn’t uniform, we feel the heaviest theme is the title. The memory of the martyrs who have been desecrated is embodied in the poem:
“Mert ragyog örökkön örökké
földdel teli szívem helyén
napvilág-halhatatlan rögökké
fényesedett emberremény…”
(lit. “For it will shine forever
in the place where my heart is filled with earth,
it has turned into everlasting stones
the hope of mankind…”)
In a lofty tone, the poet speaks of the responsibility of guardians of values to carry forward true values for the future.
István Bella’s oeuvre is naturally even more multifaceted than this. We could also talk about his incredibly important love poetry, for example, his great poem Szeretkezéseink (lit. Our Lovemaking), which is among the works that renew the genre. However, it also connects with the works mentioned here through the creative power of language and the beautiful intention of ‘expressing the inexpressible’. One could write about his achievements as a translator and lyricist, and as someone who is well-versed in music. These areas, together, would complete the picture of István Bella’s oeuvre.
Of course, István Bella’s oeuvre, which came to an end in 2006, is even more multi-layered than this. His love poetry is also incredibly significant; for example, his great poem Our Lovemaking is one of those works that contribute to the renewal of the genre. However, it also ties in with the previously mentioned works through its language-creating force and the beautiful intent of ‘expressing the inexpressible’. One could write about his achievements as a translator, lyricist, and well-versed musician. These elements, combined, would form the complete picture of István Bella’s oeuvre.
[2015]