Sea and Sky

                               Outreaching far, the sea
                               in me, and tide and longing in her
                               Above, around: just sky
                               grey shades in blue, deep luminosity
                               containing all, entwining you and me

                               But who has ever grasped the sky?
                             
                               Who held an ocean in their arms?

Evening Clouds

How peaceful evening alights!

Contrails painted with orange hues

As if somebody blessed their flights,

Enchant' their destinations.

Below, released of weight, an elephant,

in drift reshapes into an ape,

like on a river's raft.

How quickly Cyprus floats

And turns to Ibiza!

How quickly fantasy burns!

A backwards swimming fish,

dissolving in the steel-blue dusk

blows away like our dreams.

How woeful days expire.

Hope

                                It is the thing with feathers
                                fallen in angels' flight
                                wearing this air of sweetness
                                that peacefully resides;

                                It is the fragrant garden
                                I walk through in my dreams
                                of flowers in blissful shadows
                                beneath mild sunlight's beams;

                                It lies beyond the you and me
                                beyond the crooked path,
                                the wounding stings,
                                the daggers in our chests;

                                It understands, forgives and sees
                                it is the Yet, nevertheless,
                                truth, trust, belief,
                                the final reason;

                                It feeds the sky from a small heart
                                where it expands to, free and bound
                                ― and it grows trees
                                from smallest seeds
                                that hold a heaven in their arms.


This poem is inspired by Emily Dickinson (314).

The Passing Of Time

waiting for the train to come

we lost ourselves imagining

the luscious destinations

when we recognised we

were on the wrong track

the timetables had

already been

canceled

Photos: Rheydt-Odenkirchen, Hagen Hbf

Nachtzug nach Lissabon / Night Train To Lisbon

Unser Leben, das sind flüchtige Formationen aus Treibsand, vom einen Windstoß gebildet, vom nächsten zerstört. Gebilde aus Vergeblichkeit, die verwehen, noch bevor sie sich richtig gebildet haben.

Our life, that is fleeting formations of quicksand, formed by one gust of wind, destroyed by the next one. Constructs of futility which blow away, even before they have formed properly.

☆

Cabo Finisterre. Finis terrae. O mar tenebroso.

Más allá no hay nada más que las aguas del mar, cuyo término nadie más que Dios conoce.
»¡Siempre derecho, más y más – nada!« rief er in eine Windböe hinein.
»¡America!« rief der Mann. »¡America!«

Cape Finisterre. Finis terrae. The dark gloomy sea.

Beyond this there is nothing but the waters of the sea, whose limits are unknown to anyone but God.
»¡Siempre derecho, más y más – nada!« he shouted into a gust of wind.
»¡America!« the man shouted. »¡America!« 

☆

 from: Pascal Mercier, Nachtzug nach Lissabon • Night Train To Lisbon
(The book quotes Spanish and Portuguese, so along with my English translation it got a bit complicated ...)

Wikipedia

Night Train To Lisbon is a philosophical novel and a book within a book. One of these books I would like to take along to a desert island.

Todo pasa ...

Todo pasa y todo queda,
pero lo nuestro es pasar,
pasar haciendo caminos,
caminos sobre la mar.

Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino, y nada más;
caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.

Al andar se hace camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante, no hay camino,
sino estelas en la mar.


(Antonio Machado)


I stumbled upon this poem accidentally in a Spanish textbook, as if it wanted to find me ...

The Call That Never Happened

Maybe the cables were cut or
the satellites were busy with dreams
while watching the stars playing
hide and seek or playing tag
with moons or simply gazing at
man's faults and agonies and trying
to shake their heads, tangling their wires, losing
their connection to Earth, ignoring all those unfulfilled
dreams soaring up to the sky, all those imploring
pleas, unheard supplications, silent sighs, cries of wounded hearts.

Maybe it was like that.

Maybe an inner voice refused a connection.

stillgelegt (3)

schneeverglitzert rosten gleise vor sich hin
aus
einsamkeit
im waldesflüstern
ziehen dampfschwaden in die vergangenheit
die träume
vom takt der räder –

ein rauschen
in der ferne

ein rauch
der verweht

ein hauch
der vergeht


I wrote the first versions of this poem in 1983.

Alliterative Annäherung

wehmütig wandernde
sehnsüchtig suchende
wallende wünsche
harren der hoffnung
erquickender erfüllung

vorerst vergeblich

Herbst

Die Bäume harren aus in trübem Tag.
Mit jedem Blatt fällt eine Hoffnung.

Auf dunklen Straßen hallen Schritte.
Der kalte Morgennebel greift das Herz.

Der Pfeil fliehender Vögel drängt nach Süden.
Die Sehnsucht zieht auf Flügeln himmelwärts.

Dein glimmender Stern schweigt in den Wolken.
Raureif verkündet Winter.

Night At the Sea

sleeping bay, calm as a lake

blackness mirrored in blackness

solitude amidst the gems

of heaven, eyes of angels

dreamily dancing on the ripples

all breezes rest, a scent of

pine trees, pungently flooding

the air with dark green memories

a nightbird cries monotonously

eternity caught in a moment

Taking Flight

in a dreamnight movie
ultramarine sky of blurred memories
patches of light auspiciously gleaming
birds like wishes
swirl in the twilight
of the half-conscious
while we are lying under the grass trees
bound to the ground of our dark weight

Painting: Pam T.

***
inspired by: Pam T's Art Loft

Stahlwerk, Pays Noir

Rauschen strömt aus unsichtbaren Schächten in die Stille
Schwefelschwaden schweben über schwarzem Schattenriss
stoisch starren Schlote staubergraut
quietschend schieben Schlangen schmelzeschwanger über Schienenstränge sich
steter Strom im Pulsschlag des Maschinenspuks

Schlägt die Stunde
strebt schneeweiß schimmernd
stahlgespiene Gischt des Abstichs sternenwärts
zerschellt Sirenenschall an Schlackenhalden
stummen Spuren schwarzen Steingolds

Im Schornsteinschatten stehen schweigend
Häuser dicht geduckt Spalier
sterbende Spezies Stahlarbeiter
schaffen versteckt im Schweiß der Schlünde

Schon stehen Zeichen auf Sturm
schlingert einst staatstragendes Schwungrad
auf Zeit
Schicht für Schicht
Zeit
geschichtet
erloschene Aschen
im Schwarzen Land


٭٭٭ 

The "Pays Noir", the "Black Country" around the city of Charleroi, Belgium, is the oldest coal and steel industry region on the European continent. Like in most similar European regions, the heavy industry based on steel and coal has declined significantly during the last four decades. What is still left to see nowadays is just a piteous relic of its former magnificence ... Nevertheless, the area west of the city centre of Charleroi ist still dominated by the steel industry; besides a blast furnace disused since 2008 there are still two steel plants and some steel-processing factories. Along the canal to Brussels and along the Sambre river, a constantly changing and still fascinating industrial scenery with production plants, workshops, chimneys, cooling towers, pipes, pylons, railway lines, heaps of discarded metal, ruins and wasteland can be seen. Much is covered by layers of rust and dust of many years.

Kursbuch

abfahrt am bahnsteig des lebens
die fenster geöffnet
weichen nicht immer gerade gestellt
umwegkarten nur gegen zuschlag
doch ohne gültigkeitsverlängerung
rückfahrt ausgeschlossen

das fahren erleichtern

mitreisende
kurswagen auf reizvolle nebenstrecken
anschlüsse sind nicht garantiert

richtungsangaben in der kopf-spalte

entgleisungen sind nicht immer zu vermeiden
sowie gerissene seiten

mit der zeit
werden manche züge gestrichen
und schwellen abgebaut
auf der strecke
bleibt die freie wahl
 ― angebotsumstellung

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