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Poetryfilm Magazin Ausgabe 01 by Poetryfilmkanal - Issuu

I didn't remember them, they altered only my metabolism. Enough poetry. Give me a sip of your cup of coffee without sugar. I know you're guzzling dry water now too Translated bz Chantal Wright. Dein zielloses Umherirren, deine Visionen, das Rufen des Lebens zehrten dich aus, weil sie nur Weg waren. Hier und da Spuren von Tinte: deine verbotenen ungereimten Gedichte. Schluss mit der Poesie. Gib mir einen Schluck aus deiner Tasse Kaffee ohne Zucker. By the sea in Heiligendamm in June, the water, gigantic, silver, eats up skin and spits out naked bodies. Between the lakes, to the north, the sun yields of its own volition, the way only the south can yield, the birches darken in amazement.

By the river, to the east, pearls ripen in fig hearts, amber-colored resignation, and the pebbles shine. With hope - that dirty word - here, between fences and shores. Who draws eyes and eyebrows who makes no incisions, gentle, luminous, who burns, who can't burn out. Who swings like a bird, who flies away from the face of the traveler.

He's going east. Tender fire, I caress you, I am still alive. No trace of ash or thirst. You are a child's drawing sun Translated by Chantal Wright. Zeichnest Augen und Augenbrauen, stichst nichts aus, sanft, leuchtend, brennst, kannst nicht ausbrennen. Schwingst wie ein Vogel, fliegst vom Gesicht des Fahrenden ab.

Zartes Feuer, ich liebkose dich, noch lebe ich. Keine Spur Asche oder Durst. Eine Kinderzeichnung bist du Sonne. The window at the front and right of my compartment reflects the scene on the left at my rear. I can see what is passing superimposed on what is coming, and it is as though the light likes this game, irrespective of where the sun is, or where the train is heading.

William Blake

Im Fenster vorn rechts in meinem Abteil spiegelt sich das linke hintere Bild. We met nowhere but we always wanted to have breakfast, smell the early morning coffee, get acquainted.

Get e-book Mein Herr, ich hab’ Sie schon gekannt, als Sie so klein war‘n (German Edition)

A little extra foam. Seduction at the rim. Ganz ohne Dopplung ging das auch nicht, aber das zeigt ja nur, wir bekannt und beliebt einige Gedichte sind. Comment Chaostranslater, I assume you might like this one as well, then: related discussion: The poetry corner - Comment The poetry corner Content Anonymous — anonymous Runengedicht um n.

Williams: The Term. Williams: Winter Trees. Auden: In Memory of Sigmund Freud. Translation Seashore Theodor Storm: Meeresstrand. Whitman: Out of the Rolling Ocean. King Riley B. Der Andere Bist du schon auf der Sonne gewesen?

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Translation Taliesin 6. My Captain! Im eigenen Interesse hat sie sich uns gesellt.

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  8. Wir schweigen oder schreiben, ob jener auch zerspringt — wenn uns nur unser Treiben was bringt. Die Welt, soweit sie lebend, singt unsere Melodie. Wir bringen, dringen, schlingen uns in das Leben ein. Wo wir den Wert bezwingen, erschaffen wir den Schein. I try to wear this weight lightly. But the weight of the unknown buries me. Ich will dies leicht nehmen. Jayanta Mahapatra Jayanta Mahapatra b. Comment A Bevor du B sagst, verweile doch, horch, bedenk, was du gesagt hast.

    Ein Vokal, der wenig bedeutet, I've marched the companies aboard, the arms are stowed below: Now let another take my sword. Command me not to go! I've served in Britain forty years, from Vectis to the Wall, I have none other home than this, nor any life at all.

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    Last night I did not understand, but, now the hour draws near That calls me to my native land, I feel that land is here. Here where men say my name was made, here where my work was done; Here where my dearest dead are laid--my wife--my wife and son; Here where time, custom, grief and toil, age, memory, service, love, Have rooted me in British soil. Ah, how can I remove? For me this land, that sea, these airs, those folk and fields surffice.

    What purple Southern pomp can match our changeful Northern skies, Black with December snows unshed or pearled with August haze-- The clanging arch of steel-grey March, or June's long-lighted days? You'll follow widening Rhodanus till vine an olive lean Aslant before the sunny breeze that sweeps Nemausus clean To Arelate's triple gate; but let me linger on, Here where our stiff-necked British oaks confront Euroclydon!

    Shelley’s German Afterlives 1814–2000

    You'll take the old Aurelian Road through shore-descending pines Where, blue as any peacock's neck, the Tyrrhene Ocean shines. You'll go where laurel crowns are won, but--will you e'er forget The scent of hawthorn in the sun, or bracken in the wet? Let me work here for Britain's sake--at any task you will-- A marsh to drain, a road to make or native troops to drill.

    Some Western camp I know the Pict or granite Border keep, Mid seas of heather derelict, where our old messmates sleep. Legate, I come to you in tears--My cohort ordered home! I've served in Britain forty years. What should I do in Rome? Here is my heart, my soul, my mind--the only life I know. I cannot leave it all behind.

    Gedichterbe | AGF aka poemproducer aka Antye Greie

    Rudyard Kipling , Un der rebe lernt klejne kinderlech dem alef-bejs. Set sche kinderlech, gedenkt sche, tajere, wos ir lernet do. Sogt sche noch a mol un take noch a mol: "Komets-alef: o! Glicklech is der Jid, wos kennt die tojre un dos alef-bejs. Lernet, kinderlech, hot nit mojre. Jeder onhejb is schwer.