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János Pilinszky  

Enough
(Elég)

Creation, no matter how wide,
is narrower than the sty.
From here to there. Tree, rock, house.
I come early, come late, put about.  

Yet sometimes somebody will enter,
and suddenly what is will reveal itself.
The sight of a face, a presence, is enough;
blood will trickle down the wallpaper.

Yes, enough a hand that stirs the coffee
or is withheld from another hand,
enough for us to forget this place,
the closed row of windows, yes,
and at night, upon return to our room
to accept the unacceptable.