1 hour ago · Nature · hide · 0 comments

By the wine-press house, the road turns offto the right, I see low village roofs through the mountains, on roads burnished blue,I’m a stranger here, for I intrude no one in sight, only acacias, vineyardssand-built houses beneath antennas between wine cellars, under the Pannonian skya small donkey—grey prophet—walks by waves back with ears of mother-of-pearlrespectable … Continue reading "Voices that must be heard: Under a Pannonian Sky – Ten Women poets from Hungary, edited by Ottilie Mulzet"

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