Ars poetica

Singing is an undertaking of the soul; one who sings prays twice. My credo is to popularise and teach folk song wherever possible, for this genre preserves those deep shoots of the Hungarian folk spirit – faith, humanity, loyalty and patriotism.

The road that brought me here was both difficult and beautiful. It was filled with much beauty, and also with many tears and much pain. It seems simple enough: a little girl from the countryside sings well and sets out to bring joy to many people with her voice. There were fortunate coincidences in my life too – various televised competitions – which made my name known throughout the country. Thus – perhaps I may put it this way – the path was made a little easier; it helped me immensely. Yet there were moments and turning points when I felt I should give it up, for it did not seem worth dedicating my life to this vocation. But there was always some joy, some encouragement, partly from the audience, partly from my friends and family, which compelled me to say: yes, it is worth it; one must get on and continue.

I have been collecting folk songs since 1970, every year, without interruption. In Transylvania, in the Felvidék [lit. Upper Hungary, the northern region of historic Hungary, referring today to southern Slovakia], and more recently in Vojvodina [a Hungarian-inhabited region of Serbia], I met singers – the young and the old alike. These were extraordinarily important and beautiful chapters of my life. Bartók once wrote that the finest period of his life was the time he spent in villages among simple peasant people. I could say the same. I received so much love, so many pure human words, so much human warmth, and so many beautiful songs, tales and life stories from these people. For song is an undertaking of the soul. Behind every song stands a person with their joys, high spirits or sorrows, and singing can have a healing power. There was a woman from Csík [a historical Székely region in eastern Transylvania] who told me she won back her husband’s love through singing. For many things – for grief, for sadness – singing can be the medicine of the soul.

When I set out on this path, apart from my family I received help only from my husband. I had no other support. I had to live and work through everything with my own bitter tears, my questions and my sadness. And so I told myself: if ever I am in a position to help young people, to guide them, to help them avoid the pitfalls – artistic ones and those of personal development – into which I fell, then I shall do everything in my power. For I know it will spare them much bitterness, many tears and much sorrow. At the Óbudai Népzeneiskola (Óbuda School of Folk Music) I teach folk singing. In truth, I do not really ‘teach’. Rather, I want them to sense the life, the cheerfulness, the good humour, the joy that lies within each song. I want to show them, to help them see, which paths one may take and which one must not take in singing and in style. Those I teach do not, deep in their hearts, wish to become singers. They simply love this art; it matters to them to sing these songs because they live here. This is their homeland. Here are their roots. And I am proud of them.

Lately, there is sorrow in me. I feel this country is living through its second Trianon [alluding to the traumatic 1920 Treaty of Trianon, which dismantled historic Hungary]. Its soul and its moral fabric are being cut to pieces. Yet I believe that being Hungarian is a matter of faith, ethics and steadfastness – a diamond backbone, as László Nagy [Hungarian poet, 1925–1978] put it. No one can choose where they are born, who their mother will be, or in what language their father speaks. But I have never, under any circumstances, been ashamed of being Hungarian, and this has been reaffirmed for me by my Hungarian friends living beyond today’s borders in Vojvodina, Transcarpathia [Hungarian Kárpátalja, now in Ukraine], Slovakia and Transylvania. They feel this cross doubly, upon their hearts and shoulders alike. I believe that to be born Hungarian is simple, but to become Hungarian – in the ethical sense – is a lifelong undertaking. I try to embrace that undertaking in this small homeland. In my heart there are no borders. I have friends in Székelyudvarhely [today Odorheiu Secuiesc, Romania, historically a cultural and educational centre of the Székely Hungarians], Técső [today Tiachiv, Ukraine, once part of historic Hungary; it has long-standing Hungarian communities and rich local folk-song traditions] Zoboralja [A Hungarian-inhabited ethnographic region in southern Slovakia, noted for its distinctive folk culture and centuries-old Hungarian settlement] and Vojvodina.

Artistic portrait

The folk singer and performing artist Ilona Budai was born in 1951 in Felpéc, a small village in Győr–Moson–Sopron County. A year later her parents moved from their farmstead to the nearby village of Gyömöre. They worked the land for their livelihood. After some years her father found employment at the Győr Wagon Factory, becoming a sandblaster in the foundry. Her mother completed six years of schooling. Both parents secured their daily bread through hard physical labour. Together with her younger brother, Ilona assumed a substantial share of the work: from an early age she hoed, helped with the harvest, and took part in all manner of farm tasks. She also learnt from her mother not only this work but the running of a household – baking and cooking included. She was a devout Catholic all her life; this outlook shaped her ethical conduct and way of thinking. Her mother would often say: “There are two things in which you cannot be disappointed: one is God, the other is the land.”

She first heard folk songs from her mother, who lulled her to sleep with singing when she was a child, and later music continued to play a significant role in their family life.

“Little Ilonka’s voice soon caught the attention of the neighbours. She was about five when József Csepi, an elderly neighbour, called across the fence to her father that the little girl would become a singing beggar. Perhaps he did not himself realise that he was foretelling the future, for in the end singing did indeed become the little neighbour girl’s vocation. [1]”

It is also true that Ilona’s mother had an aunt who served as a church cantor, and Ilona’s beautiful voice resembled hers closely, especially when heard in church. Her mother always remarked upon this when she heard her daughter sing. Christmas in their region never passed without “mendikálás” – the local term for the traditional house-to-house Christmas greeting. Ilona and her companions would go from home to home singing Christmas songs.

At secondary school she encountered an excellent Hungarian–Russian teacher, Márta Asbóth, who had just graduated from university. She invited Ilona to sing the musical setting of Csokonai’s poem A tihanyi echóhoz (lit. To the Echo of Tihany) for a special lesson. The success was immense. It was after this that Ilona began to take an interest in folk song. Márta Asbóth showed her, for instance, the song Szivárvány havasán (lit. On The Mountain Of The Rainbow), collected by Zoltán Kodály [Hungarian composer and ethnomusicologist, 1882–1967]. Its roots, reminiscent of Gregorian chant, struck Ilona straight to the heart. “This is where I fell in love with these songs – their marvellous texts, melodies and ornamentation. Miss Márta decided my fate, though at the time I did not yet know it.” [2], she later said in an interview. Asbóth entered her gifted pupil for several school singing competitions, from which Ilona regularly returned with excellent results and gold medals. It was she who prepared Ilona for the Röpülj páva (lit. Fly, Peacock) televised folk-song competition as well – though more on that later.

She went on to study at the Kindergarten Teachers’ Training College in Sopron. There Béla Törzsök, a music teacher, introduced her and her fellow students to original folk-song recordings. She became acquainted with the celebrated Pátria gramophone series, the recordings of which were made in the 1930s. After completing her training, she worked for half a year at a kindergarten in Budapest, but she gave up the job because her growing number of performances demanded more time. Instead, she enrolled at the Bartók Béla Zeneművészeti Szakközépiskola (Bartók Béla Secondary School of Music), where she studied singing.

From that point on, folk song became her central genre; she began collecting, and in her early twenties travelled to Transylvania. In 1971 members of Gábor Baross University Choir, ELTE (Eötvös Loránd University, Budapest) invited her to join them on such an expedition. Before long they reached the Mezőség region, and then Szék – an essential destination for any collector.

Shortly before this, she had taken part in a good number of televised competitions, appearing on screen in each of them.

In 1968 she entered the immensely popular Ki mit tud? (Who Can Do What?) talent contest on Hungarian Television, reaching the semi-finals as a second-year secondary-school student. In truth, she entered the competition at the encouragement of a classmate. On screen she sang On The Mountain Of The Rainbow and Ideje bújdosásimnak (lit. It Is Time for My Wanderings to Begin). Jenő Ádám [Hungarian composer, Kodály’s colleague and pupil, 1896–1982] greeted her with the following words: “With sincere hearts we greet you, rare little songbird. Soar across the Hungarian sky with such clarity and brightness in your voice, to the joy of us all.”

That same year she also appeared with success on another television competition, Nyílik a rózsa (lit. The Rose is Blooming), which mixed folk songs with the popular folk melody ‘nóta’ repertoire. In the final round she alone represented the authentic Hungarian folk song tradition.

In 1969 Hungarian Television launched its legendary folk-song competition Fly, Peacock, edited by Miklós Lengyelfi. Among the jury was Zoltán Kodály’s widow, Sarolta Péczely Kodály. Ilona won first prize in this competition. Her mentor was her former secondary-school teacher, Márta Agócs, who had drawn her attention to the old, authentic recordings. The semi-final was held in Salgótarján on 8 March 1970, where she performed the Moldavian song Hegyen-földön járogatok vala… (lit. I roamed across the hills and fields) as a student of the Sopron kindergarten-teachers’ college. The song had been collected by Péter Pál Domokos [Hungarian ethnographer, 1901–1992] in 1964 from Lucia Antal, wife of Dávid Demse, in the village of Klézse [village in Moldavia, north-eastern Romania, traditionally inhabited by the Csángó Hungarians, a Catholic Hungarian-speaking minority known for their archaic language and rich folk-song tradition].

Already in her secondary-school years she had heard Erzsi Török, an excellent Hungarian singer of the period, perform in Győr. At the time she did not imagine that she would one day succeed her. The artist also gave her a piece of advice which Ilona frequently recounted with a smile: ‘the most important thing on stage is good shoes. In bad, unstable shoes one cannot stand securely – and without secure footing one cannot sing well’.

In 1976 she held her first solo evening at the legendary Egyetemi Színpad (lit. University Stage). She herself relates the story as follows: “We were returning from Veszprém, from an authors’ and readers’ meeting with László Nagy [poet, 1925–1978], while I was preparing for my first solo evening at the University Stage. László lived here in Óbuda, on Árpád Fejedelem Road, and before he got out of the car I addressed him, rather timidly. ‘László, I have a great request,’ I began. He turned back: ‘Go on, then.’ I took a deep breath and said: ‘I shall soon have my first solo evening at the University Stage, and I would dearly like you to open it.’ He got out with his aching leg and his walking stick, leaned back into the car and said: ‘It shall be done, my girl.’ I had hoped only for a short introduction, but he recited a beautiful poem. It is entitled Szólítlak hattyú – Énekes Budai Ilonának (lit. I Call to You, Swan – To Ilona Budai, Singer).” The poem shaped Ilona’s entire life, and many associate it with the celebration of the wider endeavour to revive traditional Hungarian culture.

From the 1970s onwards she taught every summer in various folk-music camps, naturally focusing on singing and folk-song repertoire. Her favourite camps included the Vésztő International Folk Art Camp and the Simontornya Folk-Song Camp. She also taught at the Csutorás International Folk Music and Dance Camp in Örkény; at the Tótfalu Folk-Music Camp in Vojvodina from 1993; at the Töröksíp Folk-Music Camp in Kunszentmiklós from 1994; at the Gyenesdiás Folk-Song Camp from 2008; and in Hajdúszoboszló and Püspökladány with the Délibáb Ensemble from Debrecen and its leader, Árpád Joób [Hungarian folk-music educator]. It was here that she met one of the ensemble’s leading members, János Dévai [later folk-music editor at the Hungarian Radio]. Together with his colleague László Máder, head of the folk-music editorial department, he worked with Ilona to design and build the programme Énekeljünk együtt (lit. Let Us Sing Together), produced weekly in collaboration with the Vikár Béla Folk-Song Circle. During each fifteen-minute episode they taught listeners a new folk song.

The programme became immensely popular and significantly contributed to the dissemination of folk songs across the Hungarian-speaking world. It remained on air for twelve years. It was followed – at the suggestion of Katalin Kondor (editor-in-chief of Kossuth Rádió at the time) – by the programme Fúvom az énekem (lit. I Blow My Song). In this series Ilona recounted her experiences and important episodes of her life, linking each story with a song, drawn especially from her fieldwork among Hungarian communities beyond Hungary’s present borders. The programme was broadcast for eleven years. Every Saturday morning at nine o’clock vast numbers of enthusiasts and admirers of folk music tuned in to Kossuth Rádió to listen to Ilona’s broadcast and learn the song of the week. When the radio’s leadership eventually removed the by then iconic and widely listened-to programme from the schedule, a petition for its continuation quickly began. Among the signatories were such figures as András Balczó [Olympic champion, b. 1938], Anna Jókai [novelist, 1932–2017], György Fekete [artist and cultural leader, 1932–2017] and Laura Faragó [folk singer, b. 1950]. The management remained unmoved, and Ilona thereafter had to work with other editors. However, in 2008 she was able to launch a new folk-music programme on Katolikus Rádió (Hungarian Catholic Radio), Népdalforrás (lit. Folk-Song Spring), which she both edited and presented.

For Ilona, communal singing was always of central importance. She often performed together with her pupils.

Her colleague and fellow musician József Birinyi [folk musician, folklorist and cultural organiser, b. 1956] recalls the early years as follows:
“In 1976, building on my folk-music ensemble at the Kulich Hall of Residence, I founded the Józsefváros Folk-Art Workshop in the youth club established in the basement of the primary school on Somogyi Béla Street. I invited Ilona Budai to teach folk song; Zoltán “Púder” Nagy [Hungarian folk dancer and dance-house leader] to lead dance-house events and teach dance; and I myself – alongside directing the workshop – taught folk instruments and led the Forrás ensemble. Through our interconnected work we created a community, a movement, a dance-house and children’s activity groups on the “asphalt” of the Eighth District, building on our traditions with experience, knowledge and good programmes. This successful model served as an example and expanded widely. We launched the careers of many singers, musicians, dancers, craftspeople, ethnographers and folk-music specialists in radio and television who remain influential to this day (including Katalin Szvorák, Mária Maczkó, Anikó Fehér, Bea Tárnoki, Nikola Parov, László Major, Pál Kaibinger, András Széles, László Kovács, Lajos Jóri, Ferenc Gulyás, Balázs Unger, the Vikár Béla Folk-Song Circle, the Forrás Ensemble, the Zsarátnok Ensemble, Anna Gisztl, Zsuzsanna Szalai – folk-costume makers – and the Magyar Folk Trio). Our work also laid foundations for, and supported, the development of methodology for institutional folk-music education and folk-song teaching. Countless programmes, concerts, radio and television recordings, series, films, cassette tapes, LPs, CDs, books, domestic and international tours, Csutorás Folk-Music Camps, shared missions and shared experiences – all dedicated to passing on and popularising our traditional values, and to nurturing generations of children and adults who love and practise folk music. These are our achievements.”

Those who attended the workshops learnt folk songs and instrumental skills. Budai Ilona taught singing, and before long the singers formed a folk-song circle. This became the Vikár Béla Folk-Song Circle, with which they went on to achieve great success. The ensemble enjoyed a long life, singing together until 2023. They took part in numerous performances, and several CDs as well as audio and video recordings preserve their voices. Beyond their professional collaboration they formed strong personal bonds: they celebrated name days and birthdays together, and Christmas and Easter gatherings became cherished traditions. Those who sang in the circle could say that under Ilona Budai’s guidance they came to know the very finest treasures of the Hungarian folk-song heritage.

The already well-established Women’s Choir in the village of Boldog, near Budapest, invited Ilona to serve as artistic director in 1995. Their collaboration lasted until 2007. Although these women sang at the level of local tradition-bearers, they were nevertheless able to learn from Ilona, for with her guidance they added not only the songs of their own village but also those of other regions to their repertoire.

In 2011 she began working with another folk-song circle at the Rózsavölgyi Community House in Budapest; their collaboration continued until 2023. It was a particular joy that in the capital – a city relatively poor in living folk traditions – a second singing group could now work with Ilona for the preservation and dissemination of Hungarian folk song. This folk-song circle operated in the 22nd District of Budapest.

Its leader was Ilona Budai, with regular collaborators László Kiss [Hungarian guitarist and koboz player, folk singer], and the folk singers Dóri Sági and Zita Till. The members of the Rózsavölgy folk-song circle were: Ili Péterné Pázmándi, Irén Kiss, Magdolna Boros, Marika Józsefné Trecska, Márti Szekeres, Dr Györgyi Hegedüs, Ani Jánosné Szick, János Narday, Sándorné Tari, Dr Mária Fórizsné Oláh, Klára Salfay, András Székely, Kitti Kovácsné, Anna Pereszlényi, Ági Zakariás, Veronika Mátyásné Albert, Ferenc Hegyi, Dr Magdi Ferencné Máté, Dr István Fórizs and András Székely.

Since 1983 Ilona had also taken part in the work of KÓTA, Magyar Kórusok, Zenekarok és Népzenei Együttesek Szövetsége (lit. Association of Hungarian Choirs, Orchestras and Folk Ensembles) as a member of the Folk-Music Committee. She frequently served on juries at various folk-music assessments, where folk-song circles were always glad to receive her advice.

Her first album appeared in 1978 under the title Népdalforrás (lit. Folk-Song Spring). A CD followed in 1995, Magyarország az én hazám (lit. Hungary Is My Homeland).

Another album, Tündérvilág (lit. Fairy World), contains songs from her native region, Szigetköz, and pays tribute to the ethnographer László Timaffy (1916–2002). Her album Anyám, édesanyám (lit. Mother, My Dear Mother) honours her own mother – and all mothers. The writer Anna Jókai (1932–2017) wrote the following in the album’s liner notes:

“Listening to Ilona Budai, the surroundings dissolve: we no longer see the world of concrete, the constricted spaces no longer oppress, the smoky air no longer suffocates… We sense the scent of wildflowers, the fresh taste of rain, the blessed warmth of the sun; we understand the secret speech of birds – or it is the snow-laden forests that nod to us. The song tells us that there is a light which permeates the darkness; there is peace which cleanses heart and mind, and even pain is sweet if it brings us closer to Heaven…”

With her pupils she made the album Kossuth Lajos azt üzente (lit. Lajos Kossuth Sent Word). Her voice is preserved in numerous recordings not only on cassette tapes and CDs but also in the archives of Hungarian Radio and Duna Televízió (lit. Danube Television, Hungary’s public-service cultural broadcaster).

Together with the folk musician József Birinyi and the performing artist Judit Havas, she toured Hungarian communities across Europe, where their programme was greeted with great affection everywhere. A selection from their programme was also released on cassette under the title Erdély harangoz (lit. Transylvania Rings the Bells).

From 1977 to 2010 she recorded “Z” folk-music sessions with József Birinyi and other musicians in the studios of the Hungarian Radio, during live broadcasts, for Magyar Népdal Hete (lit. Hungarian Folk-Song Week), World Music Day concerts, the Kecskemét Folk-Music Meetings and the Táncháztalálkozó (National Dance-House Gathering). These recordings included: Szigetközi dudanóták (lit. Bagpipe Songs from Szigetköz), Palóc dudanóták (lit. Palóc Bagpipe Songs), Tolnai dalok (lit. Songs from Tolna), Andocsi koldusének tekerőkísérettel (lit. The Beggar’s Song from Andocs with hurdy-gurdy accompaniment), Dél-alföldi tekerős dallamok (lit. Southern Great Plain Hurdy-Gurdy Tunes), Bugaci dalcsokor (lit. Song Medley from Bugac), Bordalok (lit. Drinking Songs), A kicsi madárka… (lit. The Little Bird…) – Moldavian ballad with koboz accompaniment, Vágják az erdei utat… (lit. They Cut the Forest Road…) – with jew’s-harp accompaniment, Hinta, hinta, palinta… (lit. Swing, Swing) – children’s songs from the Győr region with cimbalom and flute accompaniment, Zölderdőben de magos… (How Tall in the Green Forest…) – soldiers’ songs with cimbalom, Párosítódalok (lit. Pairing Songs), Fut a bácsu… (lit. The Uncle Runs…) – Moldavian medley with cimbalom, Somogyi dalcsokor (lit. Somogy Medley), Karádi népdalok (lit. Folk Songs from Karád), Ez a lábam… (lit. This Foot of Mine…) – Moldavian songs with koboz, Le az úton, szép csendesen lefelé… (lit. Down the Road, Quietly Going Down… – with flute), Virágénekek (lit. Flower Songs), and Békési csokor Bartók gyűjtéséből (lit. Medley from Bartók’s Békés-County Collections), among other songs and medleys.

In each broadcast she spoke, in dignified and resonant language, with sincere conviction about her loving and truthful relationship with Hungarian folk song. Her words were always followed by songs.

She frequently performed with collaborating musicians, performing artists and ensembles at numerous locations across Europe. Her partners included the reciter Judit Havas , Mátyás Pribojszky, Dezső Pócsik, József Birinyi, László Kovács, András Széles and László Kiss, as well as the ensembles Muzsikás, Téka, Csutorás and the Csűrdöngölő Band. From the 1980s onwards they toured together in Austria, Germany, Switzerland, France, Denmark, Belgium, the Netherlands, Finland, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Slovakia, Ukraine, Romania, Yugoslavia, Serbia, Croatia and Slovenia.

Soon stories accompanied the songs as well. During her fieldwork people not only sang to her but also shared with her their experiences, legends and folktales. She recorded these too, and this led to the publication by Allprint Publishing House of a children’s book entitled Székely mese-beszéd (lit. Székely Tales), which came with a CD – an innovative feature at the time. Folktale collection became increasingly important to her, and she herself began to embellish her recitals with stories. She learned an immense amount from the storytellers and tradition-bearers: humanity, and often a wry and resourceful way of thinking. As one Székely farmer once put it: “If you have someone to love, and you are loved in return, you yourself are a flower and the sun shines on you forever. But if you have no one to love, and no one loves you, then even the starry sky clouds over above you.”

Ilona Budai’s voice is unadorned, clear – of ethereal purity – and that of a mature woman. It leans towards the soprano register, coloured by a very delicate vibrato. She seldom sang with accompaniment; when she did, her singing was most often supported by the cimbalom. She also performed ballads, and with a single voice she could present, compellingly, the dramatic force of the genre.

In 1986 Ilona began teaching folk singing at the Óbuda School of Folk Music, a work she pursued with unbroken energy and enthusiasm until her retirement in 2017. Those fortunate enough to study with her received lifelong nourishment in Hungarian identity, Hungarian folk art and exemplary human conduct. Her pupils loved her deeply; they sang in various formations, often with instrumental accompaniment, sometimes with her, sometimes without her.

Despite her profound devotion to folk music, Ilona’s dearest song was not a folk song in the strict sense but an Advent hymn from the Cantus Catholici of 1674:

O fair and lovely flower, sweet Jesus,

Heaven’s holy star, O blessed Virgin,

Queen of angels, advocate for the Hungarian people,

O blessed Virgin.

Ilona Budai lived her whole life with an upright moral spine. Her faith in the Almighty and in folk song was a profound source of strength. That strength kept her pure and sincere despite family difficulties and illness. Folk song lay at the centre of her life: it was what she popularised in her broadcasts and what she taught to all who came to her. Illness carried her away in Advent 2023. Her family – her loving husband, her son and his family – will cherish her memory. And so will all who ever heard her voice.

Few singers have had poems written for them. Ilona Budai was one such singer. What is more, she was honoured very early in her career: in 1976 she was surprised by one of the great poets of the age – perhaps the greatest – with a poem dedicated expressly to her. Let the poem stand here, for it is impossible to summarise more truly the essence of Ilona Budai’s remarkable being. Ilona said of it: “Had I received nothing else from life but this poem, I would still be very proud. It places a tremendous responsibility, a beautiful burden upon me. To this day it strengthens me to continue, with integrity and exacting standards, what I began then.” [3]

The poem portrays Ilona Budai as a saviour, a truthful and all-knowing figure, despite having been written at the beginning of her career. László Nagy knew precisely who stood before him. He knew where the one he praised in song would arrive, and what task she would fulfil. He was right. Singer Ilona Budai is she who brings a remedy for every trouble and carries goodness onward – not only in the poet, but in all of us: ‘you are the giver of good radiance, / saddle of my stout faith, scourge of evil, / that I may reach my better self – / lift me up, let me hasten, / cut a path for the orphaned earthbound.’

László Nagy: Szólítlak, hattyú (lit. I Call to You, Swan)

For Ilona Budai, Singer

The devil contrived and hounded into being
this night above us, where malice hangs
its lumps of venom on black strings,
lead-spittle platters for a spring fair,
their vapours withering the light,
stripping the ozone from our lips.
Lead pendulums – move, and they strike;
stand still, and still they slap you.
The savage verdict of spiteful letters
twists the gut, gnaws at the soul,
and forces one to keep on dreaming evil.

Even through this forest of black cords
I see affliction’s twin: on the rainbow’s
mountain the whip bursts into blossom
and my flower droops on the grimace-rack
of the executioner’s bench.
Mockery prowls like a pestilence,
storming every hearth,
presuming rights like a coxcomb,
clearing all with loathing,
its free hand flowering in trifles;
its spittle scrawls our highway,
it roots us out from house and homeland.

Prince, is one free to sing,
to rise skyward like a pilot,
or only to kneel upon dust-motes
as your lordship decrees?
And since my nightmare does not break here:
a new Gothic rises from wounds,
its arches gilt with sighs,
its chime-line: flattery and velvet,
and dumb – neither calling nor rousing
the one who, struck down, never rises.
A temple of nightmares, and below it
I smoulder – I do not soften my voice,
but cry out immortal:
O Lord God, am I not at home?

Fly to me, swan – I am weary;
I am spent, racked by evil suits.
I fear the ground will open beneath me,
and though I strive upwards for your sake,
I fear I shall break through only as a blade of grass.
I burn – bring in your beak good water
from where the wild swans drink;
lift from me my doubts as well;
tend where metal met bone;
set before me a green bough, that I may trust.
Where is spring, when black snows
blink on earth and sky, packed in bands?
Yet if you help me, surely I shall reach it.

I call to you, swan-white plough of snow,
splitter of satanic cloaks:
you are the giver of good radiance,
saddle of my stout faith, scourge of evil,
that I may reach my better self –
lift me up, let me hasten,
cut a path for the orphaned earthbound
with your wing and the edge of your throat!

14 October 1976, Lakitelek, Cultural Centre – Lakitelek Literary Evening.
The event was introduced by the literary historian Ferenc Kiss; László Nagy read aloud his poem written for Ilona Budai. (Source: Facebook)

[1] https://pestisracok.hu/magyar-ugar/2023/12/az-anyatejjel-szivta-magaba-a-nepdalok-szeretetet-emlekezes-budai-ilona-kossuth-dijas-nepdalenekesre (last accessed 20 December 2025)

[2] https://obudaianziksz.hu/kossuth-dijas-nepdalenekes-akihez-nagy-laszlo-is-verset-irt/ (last accessed 20 December 2025)

[3] László Gréczi: Szárnyaddal s torkod élivel… (lit. “With Your Wing and the Edge of Your Throat…”) Interview with Ilona Budai. Kairosz Publishing House, 2014, 8–9.

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