The Magyar Noble

Sándor Petőfi, the son of a butcher and a laundry maid, was a writer who died fighting against the Austrian Empire in the doomed Hungarian revolution of 1848. Though it was a bourgeois revolution, like many at this time, Petőfi was a radical who dreamed of worldwide revolutions and emancipation for all oppressed people.

This poem is about the Hungarian (Magyar) nobility, but it could be about any member of any ruling class.

THE MAGYAR NOBLE.
A MAGYAR NEMES.

The sword which once my fathers bore,
Hangs on the wall and gleams no more,
Rust covers it instead of gore.
I am a Magyar noble.

I never work and never will,
The thought of labour makes me ill.
Peasant, ’tis thou the earth must till.
I am a Magyar noble.

Peasant, make good the road, I say,
Thy horse doth draw the load that way,
But go on foot I never may.
I am a Magyar noble.

Why then, should I for science care?
The sages always paupers were.
I never read or write, I swear!
I am a Magyar noble.

One talent I possess complete,
Herein with me none can compete:
I excellently drink and eat.
I am a Magyar noble.

I never pay my tax when due,
Wealth have I, not much, ’tis true.
How much owe I? Ask but the jew.
I am a Magyar noble.

The country’s cares are naught to me.
I heed not all its misery.
Soon they will pass by fate’s decree.
I am a Magyar noble.

My ancient rights and home decay,
And when I’ve smoked my life away,
Angels shall bear me up one day.
I am a Magyar noble.

Sándor Petőfi
trans. William N. Loew