Eine kriechende Stimme schreit zum gestörten Himmel. Sie kann alles noch nicht verstehen, erfassen, oder kapieren weil sie solche eine Sache immer bevor nicht gesehen hat. Und sie hofft mit ihr ganzen Herz dass sie nicht die Unglück hätten wurden, um eine andere Situation wie diese überleben mussen.
Aber sie weißt dass kleine Freude zu ihr nimmer mehr kommen werden.
Im Panik, sie lächelt und sagt,
„Freundliche Grüße, Herr Bekümmernis. Wilkommen in unse-...meinem Haus.“
Ihr Herz ist voll von Traurigkeit, Ihre Augen sind aschetrocken.
Die Tränen haben nur Leerheit zurück belassen.
Und alles, dass sie denken kann ist,
„Was nun?“
**********************************************************************
For all of you lovelies who can't read the German language, I know it might seem silly that I posted this here, and even sillier for me to suggest that you try to read it anyway to get the feel of the rythm and stuff. Just in case you are feeling left out or curious and really want to read it in English, one of my friends suggested I translate it, which was brilliant! So I did just that. Word of warning: this poem was written in German for German and it's meaning is better in German and the language is better in German and it's crafted better in German. (I'm not saying my German is mistake-free...I'm sure there are plenty in there...I'm just saying the English version isn't very artistic...)Enjoy!
**********************************************************************
Not a Poem...More a Kind of Story
A screeching voice cries out to the disrupted skies above.
She can’t yet understand, grasp, figure it all out because she has never seen such a thing before.
And she hopes with her whole heart that she won’t have the misfortune of having to survive another situation like this one.
But she knows that little joys will never come to her again
In panic, she smiles and says,
“Friendly greetings, Mr.Grief, welcome to ou-…my home.”
Her heart is full of sadness, her eyes are ash-dry.
The tears left behind only emptiness.
And all that she can think is,
“What now?”
Tschüss,
Marta Frieda Hart
No comments:
Post a Comment