De familie verhuisde in 1910 naar Budapest maar keerde in 1919 weer terug, alwaar Dsida zijn middelbare school af zou ronden.
Zijn eerste gedichten verschenen in Cimbora, een kinderkrant opgericht door Elek Bezedek, die gezien werd als de mentor van de Transylvaanse Hongaarse literatuur.
Hij studeerde rechten aan de universiteit van Kolozsvar, maar zou niet afstuderen.
Hij werkte als journalist & redacteur van Keleti Tijsag te Kolozsvar.
Dsida wordt beschreven als een levensgenieter, wat door vele gezien werd als een compensatie voor zijn angst vroeg te sterven, aangezien hij een hartkwaal had.
Hij maakte zich grote zorgen over de Hongaarse minderheid in Roemenië en de toekomst van de Hongaarse taal. Sentimenten die treffend wist te verwoorden in Psalmus Hungerius (Hongaarse Psalm).
Zijn vroegtijdige dood op 7 juni 1938 werd veroorzaakt door een zware griep en een longontsteking, waar zijn hart geen weerstand tegen had.
Zijn eerste gedichtenbundel verscheen in 1928 onder de titel Leselkedo magany
Zijn tweede bundel Nagycsurtortok verscheen in 1933
Zijn derde bundel Angyalok Citerajan verscheen postuum (1938) en bevatte naast eigen werk ook veel vertalingen uit het Chinees, Roemeens, Russisch, Duits & Italiaans
What will comes of this?
Everything fades, turning into grey.
We’re losing our hair.
The apples are not as red as they were yesterday.
The grass is not as green-gleaming as it was day before yesterday.
Our smile of today is cooler, darker,
weak and emaciated:
a scared and sad imitation of the earlier ones.
Day after day our words turn out to be more sooty and charred.
The arms of love grow wider, turn lax, lose momentum, then release…
What will come of this, my love?
Night? Black silence? An overcast coldness?
Or is it exactly along roads pulverized into ashes
that one reaches the eternally smiling, brightly gleaming meadows?
Maundy Thursday
No connection. The train would be six hours
The apples are not as red as they were yesterday.
The grass is not as green-gleaming as it was day before yesterday.
Our smile of today is cooler, darker,
weak and emaciated:
a scared and sad imitation of the earlier ones.
Day after day our words turn out to be more sooty and charred.
The arms of love grow wider, turn lax, lose momentum, then release…
What will come of this, my love?
Night? Black silence? An overcast coldness?
Or is it exactly along roads pulverized into ashes
that one reaches the eternally smiling, brightly gleaming meadows?
Maundy Thursday
No connection. The train would be six hours
late, it was announced, and that Maundy Thursday
I sat for six hours in the airless dark
of the waiting room of Kocsárd's tiny station.
My soul was heavy and my body broken -
I felt like one who, on a secret journey,
sets out in darkness, summoned by the stars
on fateful earth, braving yet fleeing doom;
whose nerves are so alert that he can sense
enemies, far off, tracking him by stealth.
Outside the window engines rumbled by
and dense smoke like the wing of a huge bat
brushed my face. I felt dull horror, gripped
by a deep bestial fear. I looked around:
it would have been so good to speak a little
to close friends, a few words to men you trust,
but there was only damp night, dark and chill,
Peter was now asleep, and James and John
asleep, and Matthew, all of them asleep…
Thick beads of cold sweat broke out on my brow
and then streamed down over my crumpled face.
I sat for six hours in the airless dark
of the waiting room of Kocsárd's tiny station.
My soul was heavy and my body broken -
I felt like one who, on a secret journey,
sets out in darkness, summoned by the stars
on fateful earth, braving yet fleeing doom;
whose nerves are so alert that he can sense
enemies, far off, tracking him by stealth.
Outside the window engines rumbled by
and dense smoke like the wing of a huge bat
brushed my face. I felt dull horror, gripped
by a deep bestial fear. I looked around:
it would have been so good to speak a little
to close friends, a few words to men you trust,
but there was only damp night, dark and chill,
Peter was now asleep, and James and John
asleep, and Matthew, all of them asleep…
Thick beads of cold sweat broke out on my brow
and then streamed down over my crumpled face.
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