Once you set foot on this earth,
Your mother gives you seven births!
Once in a blazing house afire,
once in an icy flood’s cold mire,
once inside a loony bin,
once amidst waving wheat so thin,
once in cloister’s hollow eye,
once among pigs in the sty.
All six cry, it’s not enough, son,
Be yourself the seventh one!

If an enemy stands before you,
Have seven men who’d stand up for you.
One who begins his day at leisure,
one who works his daily measure,
one who teaches gratis at his whim,
one who’s thrown in the water to swim,
one who’s the seed of a forest’s growth of years,
one who’s protected by his ancestor’s tears.
But ruse or reproach won’t get it done, –
Be yourself the seventh one!

If you’d go looking for a lover,
Have seven men try to find her.
One who for her word gives up his heart,
One who pays for his own part,
One who pretends to be a dreamer,
One who gropes her skirt to get her,
One who knows where her hooks can be found,
One who steps on her hanky on the ground, –
They all buzz like flies around carrion!
Be yourself the seventh one!

If you could afford to compile a tome,
Have seven men compose this poem.
One who builds a marble town,
One born asleep, his eyelids down,
One who charts the sky and knows it well,
One whose words can cast a spell,
One who sells his soul, trying to thrive,
One who carves up a rat while it’s alive.
Two are brave and four are wise, son –
Be yourself the seventh one!

And if all this happened as was written,
Go to the grave as if you were all seven.
One who rocks on a milky chest,
one who grasps at dried hard breasts,
one who tosses away empty pans,
one who lends the poor his helping hands,
one who works like a man possessed,
one who stares at the Moon, obsessed;
You’re already underground, my son!
Be yourself the seventh one!

(1932)
translated by Gabor G. Gyukics and Michael Castro.