Whispers of Balaton

Dear lake of my childhood, tell me your tale, I pray,

Between Szigliget and Keszthely you sail, where vineyards tire of their wine,

And to your waters their bounty they consign, secrets to tell to your ancestors and future generations whole.

*

Long and narrow, I extend and expand as you get closer,

A tongue of land at one side, picturesque artsy landscapes,

At my end, a hill does stand and watches over my spirit,

Round and smooth, natural, inspiring, and frequently illusiory.

*

On your peak, I see the past, a chapel’s ruin, standing sentinel,

I feel through time, on the Tihanyi peninsula, the homes of hermits, old,

Covered in moss, stories untold, so much to sing and tell forward.

*

Yes, child, my waves have seen so much during many centuries of the past,

Enjoy the sights serene and wide with love, legends whispered by the breeze,

Of ancient days and mysteries,

Behold my geology treasures and beautiful geography.

*

I sense your history in the air, my childhood lake,

Every splash of your gentle waves is a memory we shared,

The mossy stones, the dreamy shore of my summer holidays,

Make me long to go back in time and relive it once more.

*

Come, little one, and listen to my tales of knights and hidden ghosts,

Of vineyards that toiled and heroes brave, all mirrored in my gentle waves.

*

I find delight in listening to you, beneath the stars, the soft twilight,

Your waters hold a magic deep without the monsters of the keep,

In your stories, I long to be the main character, the brave hero.

*

Come to me, and you will find in every ripple, some peace of mind,

The past and present intertwined, a timeless dance, forever kind,

Mindfully press rewind, my child.