I sat on a trunk
close to the flow of Tisza.
The brownish green
river carried sediment.
A bulb got stuck
in branches on the bank.
Through the slim fissures
on the glass sandy water leaked in.
The one-time bringer of artificial
light was cast out in the wild.
It looked as if it was looking
for its roots within the Tisza
underworld sunk into sludge,
ready to dissolve –
unable to decay.