Saturday, March 25, 2017

I throw in a few poems


Brook of clear water
I drank from it once
And will always drink it
Passing by

The mill wheel no longer turns
We’ve lost a lot of truth
Not progress shall be destiny
Just living in some tidiness

A Water mill, Wikipedia only lists a German text:

Reply to a question not asked

Cold light of three stars
As it throws confusing shadows
In the necropolis of the heart

Warm breeze from the waste land
As it evokes bewitching memories
In the desolation of the spirit

Foamy surf of the North Sea
As it gives ambiguous answers
In the isolation of the undisputed

Brick ruin

The brick ruin shivered
In the ice cold night wind
Snow covered like a dress
Protecting against glances
Blanketing the shame

In the autumn rain
She dared to cry
And moss sighed to it

Purple moon

I now know the blue moon
Because he is sung
But I doubt
That someone knows the purple moon
Since I’ve invented
Him only just now

Translated from the German originals:
Ich werf noch ein paar Gedichte in die Runde


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