Bertolt Brecht, Erinnerungen an Marie A., Remembering Marie A., David Bowie

1 An jenem Tag im blauen Mond September Still unter einem jungen Pflaumenbaum Da hielt ich sie, die stille bleiche Liebe In meinem Arm wie einen holden Traum. Und über uns im schönen Sommerhimmel War eine Wolke, die ich lange sah Sie war sehr weiß und ungeheuer oben Und als ich aufsah, war sie nimmer da. 2 Seit jenem Tag sind viele, viele Monde Geschwommen still hinunter und vorbei Die Pflaumenbäume sind wohl abgehauen Und fragst du mich, was mit der Liebe sei? So sag ich dir: Ich kann mich nicht erinnern. Und doch, gewiss, ich weiß schon, was du meinst Doch ihr Gesicht, das weiß ich wirklich nimmer Ich weiß nur mehr: Ich küsste es dereinst. 3 Und auch den Kuss, ich hätt' ihn längst vergessen Wenn nicht die Wolke da gewesen wär Die weiß ich noch und werd ich immer wissen Sie war sehr weiß und kam von oben her. Die Pflaumenbäume blühn vielleicht noch immer Und jene Frau hat jetzt vielleicht das siebte Kind Doch jene Wolke blühte nur Minuten Und als ich aufsah, schwand sie schon im Wind.

Ich will mit dem gehen, den ich liebe, B.Brecht, I want to go with the one i love

Ich will mit dem gehen, den ich liebe.
Ich will nicht ausrechnen, was es kostet.
Ich will nicht nachdenken, ob es gut ist.
Ich will nicht wissen, ob er mich liebt.
Ich will mit ihm gehen, den ich liebe.

'I want to go with the one I love.
I do not want to calculate the cost.
I do not want to think about whether it's good.
I do not want to know whether he loves me.
I want to go with whom I love.'

memory of the marabou

here the sun has no warmth
the snow is glittering
reflecting light
on the hazel catkins

they dared first to
signal spring,
they had no choice,
they flower

because they must.
i wonder how they
feel, stronger than ice,
swaying in the wind.

frost has its own
clear beauty, fragile
in time, all beauty
is transformation

and death is magic
too, so is all life
unfolding the secret
of gates and alchemy

waking i remembered
the marabous standing
clacking and feeding
around the slaughterhouse

in Kampala, undertakers,
gravely nodding with
a stiff gait, off and on
flapping their wings

they just do what they
do, eating the dead,
none of the suffering
before reaches them

they appear indifferent
but how would i know?
there is murder everywhere,
and death is never far.

the sun in Uganda
was hot, the land
there filled with
the stink of decay

flesh rotting, marabous
cleaned the place,
no black limousines,
no priests hiding the truth

now, better i go out
and let memories go
in the cold and biting
air of frost and snow

i am here,
now,
though i carry death-
alive

Mercedes Sosa , Marcela Morelo , Jamas te olvidare

Pauline Füg , Die Welt ist ein Nachtfalter

Jule Eckert , Ein Märchen des Verstand verlierens

Nitin Sawhney , Daydream (Video by Emily Bates)

good night, this is beautiful, i am not only beautiful :-)

Nitin Sawhney , Koyal (Songbird)

why

why to write words
when there are flowers
in my house,
they are present now

why spill more blood,
it cannot be pure,
carrying memory
like water

how could i give
more than me,
listening to my heart
i still know my mind,

smoke rises from prisons
burning, salt of old tears
freezes with desire,
melts with kisses,

see violence, tenderness,
cruelty,  destruction,
i am naked to me,
why undress for you

could i give pleasure
in the deep and
in the light of day,
will intimacy punish me

or could you give
a gurgling laugh
like i sometimes do
when i talk to me

when i giggle
listening to the rubbish,
thoughts whirling
through my being

could we find
a rest on top of trees,
in the wind,
watching the stars

birds and sky
like a blanket,
a shelter in nowhere,
still and slow

breathing together
and apart, could we
live and die,
trust in the morning

could we sleep, could i,
could you, will there
ever be peace
inside and between?

may i be clear and soft
and flow in lakes
or must i retire
and find a way

not up the mountain
but around, in the valleys
rich with lilies and green,
greet goats and sheep

touch stones and
bark, sing to me,
follow the echo
through  shadows

clumsiness is no sin,
age is no terror,
fear is no poison:
why ignore happiness,

i cannot answer.
but i know joy
grows with beauty
and in silence

and so does love
opening its sweetness
like a cactus in dream,
all its spines still there

and all rivers run
out of springs, all,
all find the sea,
there together, alive

and all sadness
roots in  confusion
and pain, leaves us
hiding in shells

and behind mirrors
reflecting each other
so our ugliness
cannot be seen

why to write words
when there are flowers
in my house,
they are present now

they carry no hope,
give their scent
out of  mystery ,
revelation of essence

what else is there
to feel and do,
be still, my heart,
i have no fence.