Hungarian Suicide Song Redux

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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 Sunday

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

Gloomy Sunday