[the phrase honey lemons is a literal approximation of μελένια λεμόνια, which sounds like melénia lemónia, and if you think this phonetic wordplay jibes nicely with the clash between sweet honey and sour lemon, you should also appreciate it takes a real translator to carry it over into another language. If you are a real translator you may savage me here https://goo.gl/L8NASF , or in the comments, or in my unquiet sleep.]
It was July when I went to the green waters; by then I’d see them from afar and always say, to go, to go to the green waters — but I wouldn’t go. Until once came a daybreak when I set out.
Don’t believe me.
I went naked into the sea and started going; and inside an agony nettled me, that the green waters will end up another lie, a canard next to the others. And with that agony also filled me a mute longing, that in the end we would meet.
Don’t believe me.
I swam for hours, how many I don’t know. More and more dominated I was by what I wanted — more blurred was the surrounding world. The green waters, the green waters — that alone I had in mind.
Don’t believe me.
Once the waters grew calm — like oil. I put my eyes on their edge — half the pupil was in the water and half out of it. And I was looking at this non-existent line, so much that I went inside it.
Don’t believe me.
Maybe it was sleep, maybe death, maybe nothingness — I don’t know. Only I felt a terrible horniness — that raged more and more. And I tried to scream, to moan, to writhe. But I couldn’t.
Don’t believe me. Don’t believe me. Don’t believe me.
Hornier, hornier, hornier. And suddenly I understood I was so aflame, I would go out. And I saw myself go out, like stars go out in the night.
And then I opened my eyes: I was in the green waters. And also: I was not alone.
She was swimming ahead of me — her hair spread into the water. Green were her eyes — like the water. And I heard everything — even her look on me.
I existed, then.
I made towards her — once we came upon a shoal. We were facing each other.
Suddenly I looked at the waters around me — they were filled with cracked pomegranates with blue seeds. And in the center of each pomegranate beat a human heart. Τhe world was upside-down now — as was time.
I turned then to the girl and told her:
You are the end.
Ah, to live with you the testament of the horny people.
(It has a lowercase t and untells the truth.)
Ah, to live with you the old story with the honey lemons.
Laughed then the bare-breasted daughter — around her stirred the green waters.
And she cupped her tits and told me: set words aside — these here are the honey lemons.
These here are the honey lemons.
Don’t believe me.
the Budafoki amended 