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Wednesday, March 9, 2016

Paul Simon - Love and Hard Times

John Cage: In a landscape (1948)

Beethoven - Ode an die Freude - Best of !

love the beginning, but always found parts of it too....violent, too pressed,
i should prefer a more quiet way of joy

clearing

clearing out my house and lost parts of past
i see that the only home i ever had was
Uganda, for five years...

and then now  may have found a home
in another one's heart-
but i cannot be near.
there is too much of ..me.
and ...of... her.


Mitsuko Uchida, Schubert Piano Sonata No.21 in B flat, D. 960

Das weiße Pferd, 1991

Ich warte
auf eine Frau
mit rotem Haar
auf einem weißen Pferd

Ich rieche das Salz
vom fernen Meer,
das Gras im Regen
und die frische Erde

Ich stehe am Wald,
der Wind dreht die Flügel
einer weißen Mühle,
gelb leuchtet der Raps

Der Himmel ist bleigrau
und die Wolken sind tief.
Aus Rissen in der blauen Wand
grell und weiß der Kalk.

Ich höre die Autobahn,
die Amseln und Finken,
Libellen im Wind
und mein pochendes Blut

Die Erde dreht sich
und
ich warte
auf eine Frau mit rotem Haar
auf einem weißen Pferd

Nacht, 1991

Bitte
komm ganz
und bleibe

Bitte
ich bin durstig
mach mich still

Bitte
ich brenne
deck mich zu

Bitte
ich sterbe
halt mich fest

Bitte
komm ganz
bleib hier

UGANDA, 1991

Her black skin
rides my blood
Her wild mind
tickles my brain

I fumble with ashes,
angry and vain,
fragments of this smell,
they burnt the grass again

I see the sound of light
coming with the rain
Now it is a fetal green
coming violently bright

My heart touches here,
termites eat my memory,
wasps settle in my mouth,
I am a spirit there

Lonely priests at night
ask my advice,
the dogs bark
and children cry

Millet beer,
they beat the drums,
mosquitoes dance
I watch

But I cannot answer
I am a dream
My love is lost

MID-AGE, 1991

About what
can a middle-aged man
meditate and write
if not about love

Or must it be
about fight and endurance
ferocity or tenacity
pain and rotting away
melancholy?

About the past
or presence
or future
when each second counts?

Your children are two:
who counts your men,
husbands, canaries,
your lovers, relatives,

Who needs your toys and dolls,
who wants to know,
blind men only
naked with desire

Who counts your wounds
and caresses your scars?
You love my eyes
and I love you

When the night comes
to talk
each of us withdraws
watching the flies above

Tears hover around corners
none too far away
wild animals lurk
in our dark

We share our helplessness
naked
and
cold

And then
we show each other
how to walk out
for a swim

Cleansed through water
we watch a full moon:
We shall never sleep again








Die Wolke, 1991

Die Wolke

Um mich
knistert diese Wolke
regenschwer
immerzu

Zudecken will ich sie
mit weiß und weiß und  weiß
und dann ihr blankes Leuchten
bemalen: gelb mit Butterblumen
und Löwenzahn,
grün mit Frühlingswiesen,
mit Gänseblümchen

Eine schwarze Wolke
über meinen Schultern
tote Raben,
abschütteln will ich sie
ich renne
und renne
und renne
immerzu

Stehenbleiben möchte ich
frei und leicht im Licht
meine Arme strahlend:
ich höre die Sonne,
das Wasser, die Luft

Mein Herz schläft
ruhlos
so träge, so kalt,
eine volle Blase im Schlafsack


Neunzehnnhunderteinundneunzig
am kahlen Berg
die Krüppelkiefer:
Die Steine sind klar






the poison/Cat Stevens, Hard Headed Woman

is in us, is in me, in you.
it is not THE poison, THE indifference, THE blindness
is is always  specific poisons, partly hidden, partly raw slumbering
under the surface, partly distilled, partly controlled,
it is not THE Ego, it is specific parts of Ego,
and all of it goes with each human, quite specific.
all in all it is uncontrollable.

every one is looking not for release, not for salvation, but for fulfillment,
for a place and situation and partner in life where we find integration and
a home for our goodness and for our badness, for our longing and desire,
and where we can be allowed to be us and where we are taken for our best and not for our worst
and where we can be living in such a way as to do our best with another one
and in our own eyes.

Always we must do the best in our own eyes anyway, but it is a job
which often gets out of hands and nobody can be perfect.
When we die, we all leave unfinished business, hurt and wrong deeds
in our wake.

i have failed. I will fail. But I am as clean as I can be.
I have not failed alone. There is grief and loss and maybe spring soon
to walk through. Spring is for everybody.

My cat knows, he came near.