Finally (One Day)

(für W.)

One day we'll
finally be
unenclosed

We will pass into
the salty air
of our longings

We will fly sky wide
in all directions 
at once

and we will
finally be
no more

and no less

Time and Hands and Summers of Childhood

How time never goes by, but always right through

---

Traces. There are years in our hands, not all of them anymore, some have flown away, but others way heavily, even the slight ones, they stay, dug in deep

---

Do you remember?

We waded through the snow-soaked meadows, shivering, rejoicing, carrying spring within us, ready to burst out, grabbing everything, clenching our little fists around the bright day, throwing it high in the air ...

Then summer. The trout in the little stream, us on the boardwalk above, the doll dangling in one hand while the other threw pebbles into the water ... the sparkle around us and within us ... we ... our rosy skin ... our little sweaty summer hands ...

Do you remember? It's been a long time.

---

Always and everywhere hands. Why are they so anchored in my memory? ...

Big hands, old hands, paper-thin wrinkled skin with brown spots, young hands, strong, dexterous, busy hands, sad hands, yes, those too, the tear-sad hands, and the comforting ones too ...

---

We collected mushrooms and blueberries, mixed the dough, baked pancakes, squeezed lemons into the jug of spring water, secretly poured in double the portion of sugar, dipped our fingers into sweet life, licked them with our eyes closed ...

The heavy bedspreads, the creaking floorboards, the spiders in the corners, the scent of ... everything ... a lush bouquet of meadow flowers ... sun and night ...crickets chirping through the open window, dancing shadows on the walls, sleepily whispered plans for the next day ... vacation ... self-overlapping time ...

The buried treasure, the secret meetings in the treetops, the strong muscles, the young skin, the jumps, the hops, the races, the throws, the games, the adventures, the danger, the dreams, the deep sleep ...

Why that ... so long ago ... do you still remember?

---

The cold hands, waxen, pale, with the nevermore in every fiber, silent on the white sheet, the cool room, the severed air, the no and the not and the cut off you 

---

The repetitions, the grids, the sharp edges, the boxes, the perpetual clock, the processes

the beautiful

the good

---

My hands on the keyboard, my dancing fingers and the knowledge that lives in them, the lines in my palms and what they are talking about: that this is by no means everything

The never ending that creates the connection to the very first unconscious all-encompassing

The grip, the comprehension, the groping, the grasping, the letting again

---

Übersetzung eines Textes aus 2015: Zeit und Hände und Kindheitssommer

Empire of Devotion

They are uniques 

held together 

by loose space

electrically connected

by unspoken longings

as old as their bones

When they were kids

time stood still

on their command

for every shared secret

and all those promises

made for eternity

Decades have passed

they finally found shelter

in an empire of devotion:

true naked skin

shown to each other

in unquestioning trust

Adopted

In our dreams we went far

in search of landscapes

to trade for the desert inside

We knew no holding on

and no holding up

and sooner or later

we always ended up at the sea

greeted by a strong wind

and a rough coast

a hidden bay, a sunny beach

We took off our clothes

ran barefoot through the sand

into the arms of the sea

We let ourselves be embraced

and weighed and carried out

and let go and grabbed again

and touched all over and held

so tight and finally given back

to the beach

We exposed ourselves

to the sun and the wind

breathing, dancing

satisfied ...

Later we lay in the sand, naked

waiting for dusk, nightfall

a pale moon to announce

the arrival of the animals

They came singly or in packs

We heard their panting before their steps

Not long and their breath touched our skin

then their tongues, never their teeth

They came only for the salt

which they licked greedily off our bodies

Around us and within us

the constant roar of the surf

the ever-present sea

...

At some point the animals left

and moved on

and we had only one last wish:

to wake up not in our beds

but on the same beach

by the same sea

adopted by our fondest dreams

and a pack of wild animals

Favourites

My favourite colour?

A sea-salty Blue.

My favourite word?

Has to be true.

My favourite person?

Someone like you.

Dein Potenzial / Your Potential

Dein Potenzial 

Abgesessen

das Polster der Zeit

und zerschlissen

Unausgerichtetes Du

Wenn manchmal etwas

gelang

verdankte es sich dem Zufall

Hättest du dein Potenzial

doch genutzt

an sämtlichen Traumata vorbei

wie so ein Übermensch

***

Your Potential

Worn-out

the cushion of time

and raddled

Unaligned you

When sometimes something

worked out

it was due to chance

If only you had used

your potential

past all traumata

like one of those supermen

Safe Place

Wie gut, dass meine Texte im Internet rumschwirren, denke ich gerade, denn dort sind sie sicher vor meinem wiederkehrenden Impuls, die Löschtaste zu drücken, das Papier zu zerreißen ...

Danke Internet!

Perfect Day / Tage am Meer

Perfekte Tage sind ...

... Tage, an denen ich mich vergesse
... Tage, an denen ich ganz bei mir bin
... Tage, an denen ich mit den Vögeln spreche
... Tage, an denen meine Gedanken Flügel haben

... Tage allein mit mir
... Tage mit Freunden
... Tage mit dir

... Tage, an denen ich ein Gedicht schreiben kann
... Tage, an denen ich tanze
... Tage, an denen ich nichts vermisse
... Tage, an denen ich weine bis ich genug geweint habe

... Tage am Meer

... Tage am Meer

... Tage am Meer

*

Just a perfect day

Drink sangria in the park
And then later, when it gets dark
We go home

Just a perfect day
Feed animals in the zoo
Then later a movie, too
And then home

Oh, it's such a perfect day
I'm glad I spent it with you
Oh, such a perfect day
You just keep me hanging on
You just keep me hanging on

Just a perfect day
Problems all left alone
Weekenders on our own
It's such fun

Just a perfect day
You made me forget myself
I thought I was someone else
Someone good

Oh, it's such a perfect day
I'm glad I spent it with you
Oh, such a perfect day
You just keep me hanging on
You just keep me hanging on

You're going to reap just what you sow
You're going to reap just what you sow
You're going to reap just what you sow
You're going to reap just what you sow

*

Es mag so aussehen, als hätten mein kleiner Text und der Liedtext inhaltlich nichts gemeinsam, vom Titel einmal abgesehen. Aber das stimmt nicht. Für mich geht es um das Gefühl. Um das, was einen Tag zu einem perfekten Tag macht. Es sind häufig die scheinbar kleinen Dingen, für mich oft auch solche wie die besungenen. Aber eben auch und vor allem die von mir beschriebenen.