kaj se en mia koro estis ardo,
g^i estis por la lingvo: mi g^in volis prepari, perfektigi, por genio post mi venonta.
But I never wanted to be a poet,
and if in my heart there was enthusiasm,
it was for the language: I wanted
to prepare and perfect it for a genius who would come after me.
From: Jubilea Letero al Julio Baghy.
How ironic and characteristic that Kalocsay, the enigmatic rascal, should make such a claim in a poem! And yet there is definitely some truth in the statement.
"La Kolosa Diletanto," as Reto Rossetti (http://www.webcom.com/donh/don/esplit/Ta... ) once described him, was only one of many people who have been absolutely delighted with and captivated by the International Language of Dr Ludovic Zamenhof. Even to the extent of making it his first literary language. And, as we learned from the previous article, Kalocsay's achievements in the linguistic field were truly impressive and of great importance to the development of the language.
However, it has been said - and said so many times by so many outstanding Esperanto writers that it must be believed - that the greatest contribution that Kalocsay made to Esperanto was contained in the aggregate of his poetry. And, since the greatest volume of that work was translation, the question now needs to be asked: "Why, did Kalocsay choose to expend his considerable talent and his very limited time translating other people's poetry rather than writing original works of his own?" He was, undoubtedly, a fine poet. Of a special kind. Here is what Reto Rossetti has to say about it:
"A poet is born, not made, it is said. But, in fact, both kinds exist: Baghy was the first kind and Kalocsay the second...But nobody has yet proved to my satisfaction that the first kind is, poetically speaking, superior to the second...Kalocsay, essentially an artist of language, put on seven-league boots to make himself a poet, and even believed that other people could do the same, by following his example."
Well, in fact, the question relating to the predominance of translations among his work was asked of Kalocsay when he was 80 years old and his answer is so interesting and raises so many questions about literature in general, that I will provide it in full. Kalocsay's mastery of Esperanto combined with his eloquence is such that I cannot possible give a close, literal translation into English. What follows is more of a paraphrase, or interpretation than an exact translation. But I have tried to remain faithful to the sense of what Kalocsay said. Here are the reasons he gave.
