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About

Foreword

I must not tell to anyone,
So, tell it I will to everyone,
 
I tried to whisper - mouth to ear the reach -
To all of you, but one to one with each.
 
That secret, though the same, when said and done,
Is only meant to pass from one to one.
 
That secret for which I - so once conspired -,
Came into the world all bloodied and mired,
 
The word, that secret, that tiny miracle,
That I should search and find that other one
And whisper in her ear: do pass it on.
 
I must not tell to anyone,
So, tell it I will to everyone.
 
‘Tis half-way out, I almost said my bit,
It used to stick before I blurted it.
 
One just blushed, was hot from all of this,
She whispered, too, but it had turned to kiss.
 
The other hardened to ice, she froze,
Went to her grave, she left me, I suppose.
 
I must not tell to anyone,
So, tell it I will to everyone.
 
The third, she gave me a sudden look,
She laughed, I laughed, that's all it took.
 
As a child, I wrote on a doing list:
Talk to god if he does exist.
 
Not in a burning bush, nor wine, nor bread,
Had he appeared for me, that must be said.
 
In vain I waited, with envious persistence,
was judged unworthy to trust in his existence.
 
I must not tell to anyone,
So, tell it I will to everyone.
 
That teasing and torture hurt, to give them voice:
To be bad could well have been a better choice.
 
For sin and goodness, are merely dreams it seems
And reality is greater than the dreams,
 
That here I am, perhaps for days to come,
As witness to the shining of the sun.
 
I am no god, no world, I dare assume,
No northern light, nor aloe vera bloom.
 
Not better or worse than others in my tribe,
Yet I'm the most: a human who's alive.
 
Relation, acquaintance am I to all
Descendant, successor am I to all
 
I must not tell to anyone,
So, tell it I will to everyone.
 
Tell I will, or I would tell,
But lame my hands and I stutter as well.
 
I 'd tell where the road leads, I know the bends,
Do try to help me, reach out your hands.
 
Lift me to speak, to see, to live -  you must…
I cannot be speaking down here in the dust.
 
Discarded the rattle, bells I have none,
My voice in the dust is one to shun.
 
Foot on my chest, trodden down I lie,
Do come and lift me, do lift me high.
 
From many on offer, a pulpit I'll hire,
Let me go up it to what I aspire.
 
I don't yet know it, I don't know what I'll say,
But think 'tis glad tidings I'll bring today.
 
Glad tidings, good news, rainbows and secrets
For you, whom I loved,
Whilst wide-eyed, standing, for wonders I waited.
 
Which I cannot tell to anyone,
Which I now will tell to everyone.
Kery, Leslie A.

Welcome to my website!
I am Tamás Remetei.
I love fishing, mushroom picking and collecting herbs.
I cultivate a small garden without chemicals. I keep poultry free without food, hatching Hungarian old breeds.
I like to inoculate fruit trees.
For 3 years we managed to make a tincture with homemade brandy by putting together 8 herbs and spices (which is also a delicious herb).
I dare not write "medicinal tincture" because the pharmaceutical industry no longer allows us to write on the chamomile inflorescence what it is for.
We still know our children, if we don't teach them how to prepare the product, they can only read how it is made, which plant it is no longer allowed by law. These laws are made by the representatives we choose and we should follow, but they are not working in our interests unfortunately in this area.
Until the pharmaceutical industry is separated from the power of our countries, as in the past the churches, unfortunately, knowledge must be passed on silently in a mask. Therefore, I too can only describe the preparation for what you tell everyone dear people.

video: 
Karinthy Frigyes - Nem mondhatom el senkinek / Kőszegi Ákos
József Attila: Két hexameter / A számokról (Eperjes Károly)