Harvest

No Indian Summer was –

October winds are wild and strong upon us.

Let’s treasure then September sweetnesses,

Next to our hearts,

Against the darkness

And November’s gloom.

Let’s hide away sweet sunshine,

Green fragrant forests, magic gardens,

Soft golden sand, caresses of blue seas,

Ships on the river,

And the many-coloured city.

Then let’s find safety for the smiles,

The laughter and the moments

Of togetherness and understanding,

The silences,

And for the moment when we stood,

Transfixed, before the eyes of God.

And then,

When all is safe,

Let Winter come.

Advent

Du denkst

du weißt jetzt wie das geht,

leben.

Leben mit dem Schatten

Von einem der fehlt.

Leben mit dem schwarzen Loch

Durch das er gefallen ist.

Du denkst

Du weißt jetzt wie das geht.

Und meistens geht’s ja auch:

Du lachst und spielst und redest.

Und dann, auf einmal,

du denkst an nichts,

und kochst vielleicht gerade,

fällt sie dich an, die Trauer,

mit Zähnen scharf und spitz,

und beißt und reißt

die Wunden wieder auf.

Und beißt und reißt

Ein Loch aus Schmerz

In deinen Frieden. 

Christmas 2013

And so this is Christmas:

Hours or days with the friend, with my sons,

Snatched from time as it flees by.

Moments powdered with stardust,

Born to be memories.

Christmas trees under a Southern sky.

Gifts given on train stations,

Or over a cup of tea

Or via the internet:

No Santa around this year.

And at the end of the journey,

An old man asleep in his wheelchair:

My father, and he knows not

What he waits for.

Dream Lover

There was music,

And party,

And fireworks.

And as the time came to leave,

There were you,

And held me close and warm.

Rain spattered the windows,

My tears wet your cheek.

And who you are, I know not. 

September day in Paris

In the museum, 

I got spooked 

by a Chinese bogeyman.

White clouds are building 
new skylines 
behind the eternal 
stone monuments.

A ragged seagull and I 
waiting by the river 
for the next rain. 

The breeze brings us greetings 
and salt from the sea. 

In the company of strangers 
I hear 
the languages of the world.

A Russian man 
buys 
an Eiffel tower
and three Korean youths
are lighting cigarettes,
with rain beating down on the Louvre.

And ravens are pillaging 
rubbish bins in the park. 

soap bubble days

Soap bubble days

Drifting dreamily through days

Of old – new friendship

Wandering forests of elves

mossy boulders and birches

the silence so dense

blanket of peace in the nights

past and future dreams

yearning

The night winds are chilly,

Clean sheets on my bed.

I lie alone.

My arms are tired

Of hugging teddy bear.

My fingertips

Are tired

Of touching metal, plastic,

Glass and wood.

My fingertips

Are yearning

To touch warm skin

And tangled hair

And flesh pulsating

Deep and deeper…

My lips…?

Don’t ask!

This yearning, lady,

Is part of life,

Sometimes!