Hungary’s suppurating Jew-hatred and warped nostalgia for Nazi-allied wartime figures are consistent with the knowledge that this proud and ancient nation will be the first of Europe’s sovereign states to disappear for lack of population. Some Jewish charity should send interns to train in Budapest’s remaining kosher restaurants for purposes of cultural preservation. Otherwise, there’s not much to do but give them another chorus of the Hungarian Suicide Song and avert one’s gaze.
Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless
Dearest the shadows I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of ever returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy is Sunday, with shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided to end it all
Soon there’ll be candles and prayers that are sad I know
Let them not weep let them know that I’m glad to go
Death is no dream for in death I’m caressing you
With the last breath of my soul I’ll be blessing you