Many of us here in Hungary still no doubt remember Tennessee Williams' staggering play the SWEET BIRD OF YOUTH very well. We can do it for at least two reasons. The first one is that it was once, or even more often, staged by theaters in Budapest, and it always was a sold–out; and secondly, the translator was a no lesser figure than the well–known István Örkény, whose brilliant rendering of the text into Hungarian, especially of the climactic parts, was, perhaps, better than the original. But what's the play about? In a nutshell, it's a drama, a tragedy, and it is about life itself, and says that life can be hard and bitter, but still, it's always sweet and beautiful while you are young and feeling young, and that's why you want it to last for good, because you want to capture, to get hold of the hours, the minutes, the moments of those days, if it were possible. But time, be it sweet or bitter, flies away quickly, and as you become older, you are less and less able to get rid of the feeling that you must have spoilt something there in that remote past. Or maybe, not even you, but somebody else did that for you, but you are no longer sure because all that was so long ago. So everything is dim, hazy, as it were, but still you have the feeling that you must get back, or it would be very nice if you could get back and to amend what was spoilt. For "those were the days, my love", or anyway, there was something in it that was stolen from you, your freedom or just a possibility, and that made your whole life so damn bitter and miserable. And now, if you only could get back, then you would, or could grasp that something somehow again to make you happy...