Gypsy Heart: the Poems of Lilly Gellé

By Lilly Gellé

During her life, Lilly was an accomplished musician, playing the piano dressed in her traditional Hungarian attire, singing traditional songs from her homeland. She was also an accomplished artist and writer.  These poems were written over a span of 20 years from 1940s to the 1960s. They have been translated from their original Hungarian and edited and compiled by her granddaughter, Lauretta Kehoe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gabriel's Horn
• Release date: Jul 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781938990472

Book preview

Acknowledgement

I have had these poems in a box for many years, intending to type them up.  I never realized how talented my grandmother was.  I was too young to appreciate her when she lived in Chicago.  I can only now marvel at her talent while I typed these words onto the page.  The cover illustration is one of Lilly’s own drawings.  I have contributed my own here and there to add to her brilliant poetry.

Some of the pages are old and brittle with missing sections.  Where there were missing pieces, I did my best to write in Lilly’s style to fill in or complete the poem. Some were written in Lilly’s native language, Hungarian.

Many thanks to Laura Vosika, who graciously agreed to publish this book and to Theresa Liu for her translation of the poems written in Hungarian.

Thank you to Lisa Everingham for the use of her art in Modern Art.  You can see more of Lisa’s work at

Mostly, thank you to my mother, Barbara Johnson, and my aunt, Elizabeth Dimond, for allowing me the privilege of bringing these poems to the world.

Poems of Love,

Life and Faith

A Torch of Love

I GAZE WITH JOY AT every hour

Upon a secret mystic flower,

A fiery rose burning bright,

Shining with everlasting light.

Within my heart, a throne of gold,

Upon that throne a diamond star,

More dazzling yet than those afar

Scintillates with a steady glow,

Its flame to leap, its light to grow

Day by day with great endeavor,

Breaks bonds like a flooded river,

Till one day – like the sun above –

I’ll be a blazing torch of love.

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A Challenge (To Mishy)

OPEN THE GATE OF YOUR secret garden,

Open the gate and let me in,

Let go of pride, its vigilant warden,

Let go of every ancient sin.

Fling wide the doors

Let in the blue sky,

The sun and moon carry a grand parade

Let light invade the dusty dark corners

And reveal the inner masquerade.

The door of my soul is left wide open

For all to come and take a rest,

Strangers and neighbors, laden with labors,

For all passersby to be my guest.

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I lay bare my soul and all its treasures,

I show my ware in a grand array,

The ark of my heart is touched by many

The wish to cast earthly cares away.

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I’m longing to tread the winding stairway

Leading up to that golden ark

Which - hidden in a Holy of Holies –

Cradles your heart’s immortal spark.

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I call your soul from its walled garden,

Tempting it from its hiding place,

I lure it, challenge it, coax it, dare it:

To soar with me into timeless space!

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Fly with me towards spheres yet unknown!

Let two sparks leap to the parent flame,

Oh, come, come out of your lonely garden,

Into the realms of the Nameless Name.

A Letter to My Brother

DEAR BROTHER, WHEN you come to my wake

Don’t think for a moment please that I fake,

But when you see me so quietly lie

Just put on the set of your best Hi-Fi

And play in my ear my favorite tune:

Prelude: La Traviata and quite soon

You’ll see a smile on my pallid face,

And there’ll be not a sad or tragic trace,

Neither a morbid, spooky nor a ghastly mood,

Nor any reason for you to brood.

For on my so-called eternal bed

I promise you, I shall NOT be dead.

Only have my long due and well-earned sleep,

A promise that God at long last did keep.

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For just a little while I’ll vanish,

All wordly woes and worries banish,

For a short-term rest I will lie down

And close sleepy eyes without a frown.

I might sojourn in Hell or Heaven,

But I’ll be back in years of seven.

I will be born amongst your grandkids,

And when silly Lilly appears in your midst,

Like the Dalai Llama of Tibet,

There’ll be signs and symbols, you bet!

So be prepared Béla, brother dear,

And to my prediction lend an ear:

That one fair day at your fair mansion

I’ll show up all nerves and tension.

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A Trip to Italy

NO PLACE ON EARTH SO splendidly amuses

Than old Italy, the home of the Muses,

Land of Vendetta, hot passions broken hearts,

Colorful cavalcade of creative arts,

Home of Dante’s famous Comedy Devine,

Petrarca’s Sonnets, spaghetti and red wine.

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Trieste, Miramar, the Adriatic Sea,

Sunny Sicily, so many things to see!

Padova, Bologna, the world’s oldest schools,

Objects d’art Cellini came with magic tools,

Leonardo Da Vinci and Tintoretto,

La Scala, Verdi music, Rigoletto.

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Borgias, Medicis, old bloodstained histories,

Troubadours with guitars singing love-stories,

Street singers playing on the mandelina:

Io t’ame Mia bella signorina.

Venice, St. Mark Square, where thousand pigeons coo,

Is the most romantic place I ever knew.

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Maples full of songs, Florence full of flowers,

And – foremost of all – with many church towers

City of all cities, built on seven hills Rome,

The goal of all pilgrims, Holy Father’s home.

Vatican, Qurinal, and the Holy places,

Uffizi’s immortal oil painted faces.

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Italy, playground of a damned mosquito:

Bloodthirsty, battle drunk, black shirt Benito,

And Orange, Royal House of long remembrance,

Bourbon – Parma, a name of noble fragrance –

There is yet much more, but I can only tell

Here of old Italy in a mere nutshell.

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At the Opera

CELLOS AND VIOLINS prepare

For the tragedy,

Verdi melody

Mingles with perfume in the air

Removing me from all earthly care.

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Mighty melodies are pealing

The Dukes do duet

Princes pirouette,

Now the high C hits the ceiling,

Playing havoc with my feeling.

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Emotions are in high gearo,

Love and passion rage

All over the stage;

Self-control registers zero,

I agonize with the hero.

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Rigoletto makes quite a hit,

His