poem by ls

This poem is not written by me but by a very dear friend of mine.
It is a great honour for me being allowed to translate and to publish it here and I hope I got everything right about intentions, meanings, rhymes, pictures and, of course, language.
It is great in the way how it transports delicate and complex feelings in such short and simple words and verses while still being mysterious and puzzling.
No more talks, let the poem speak for itself:

Alone, I walk through the woods

while only my steps make sounds

Hot and burning, I can feel him.

Hear silent my heart's beating.

Barefoot, I sense every leave.

Only dew the feet can relieve.

My face in his hand.

Time's running away like sand.

Alone in the woods, without a tree,

I can feel the thorns around me.

He is passing away,

Time has gone astray.

So I lay, just here.

He is with me, so near.

And yet so far -

A lonely spot, my heart.

gone with the wind

Soap-bubbles, dandelion clocks (or blowballs, as they're called) and wishful dreams are equally solid-grounded and permanent (which means not at all) but also equally lighthearted. They're wonderful even if or even because they're so fragile in their beauty and it takes no more than a soft breeze till they're gone with the wind. Dissolved, away, for ever. I love and soap-bubbles although I know they won't last. Have you ever tried to get hold of a soap-bubble when you were a child? It's so disappointing that the slightest touch destroys them in an instant! How peaceful and beautiful is it when they float away into the sky before the inevitable bursting... Every child learns that they're no consistent toy – but you can make some new, and again, and again... There's not much difference with dandelion clocks, they're just not as colourful and if you haven't blown strong enough you'll find the little seeds everywhere. Still, they're gone anyway and won't come back. A small child may cry when there are no blowballs left. Who thinks of all the flowers that will grow in a year's time? The little seeds are gone and only a sad stalk is left. End of the story. Dreams often burst like soap-bubbles or float away in pieces like the seeds of a dandelion clock and leave you behind disappointed. That's life and that always will be. Just sometimes – a tiny chance – things you have given up long before turn out to have a wonderful outcome. A dream, a wish, long time ago shattered, dead and buried gets fulfilled even better than imagined. A happy end although the villain had won. It happens. I once read a childrens book where Kasimir, a little squirrel, became best friends with a dandelion that grew on the meadow where he lived. They spent a wonderful spring and summer together and when the dandelion finally had become a blowball, it promised Kasimir that it would always be there and return if he now blew strong enough. Kasimir was sad and disappointed discovering that his friend was gone. He left, thinking everything was over and he had been lied to. After a sad and lonely winter he returned to the meadow to discover that it was over and over covered with dandelions. Ok, I know that this is just a story. In a children's book. Anyway, isn't it wonderful to keep in mind that some things aren't as eliminated from the earth as they seem to be. Every time you blow a dandelion clock, you plant flowers for the next year. Death and life, disappointment and hope. There are shattered dreams and there is the wonder of something that was Gone With The Wind and still has a happy ever after*.

(* If you don't believe me, just watch the movie or read the book with the same title. This does neither mean that I like, support or recommend it. It was – in combination with the photo – only an inspiration for reflections)

dark clouds, blue sky

Right now several people I know fight with depressions, burn-out or both. This dark shadows run in my family as well as in my church and among other acquaintances. In most cases I wouldn't have suspected the people to be likely candidates for it. And this although it's a process to get into that black hole which seems to shade the sun out eternally. And as far as I know, it's a journey even longer to get out of it, and most fail to manange that without professional help. Naturally climbing out is harder work than falling in and it's absolutely demotivating and power-drenching to try and try and fail all over again. There is a need of someone who tells you that it's always the darkest part before you see the light at the end of the tunnel. And a lot more. If you know someone with depressions or other psychic problems you'll know how desperated one feels when one realises there is nothing you can say or do that will help. It seems impossible but there needs something to be done. I have the highest respects of psychatrists, therapists and other people working in psychatric clinics. They're often the last hope – everyone espects so much of them, they're often consulted far too late when nothing else is possible anymore, and still, most of them are doing a great job. I cannot imagine how people who have reached the absolute bottom – psychic, physic and with their souls – are fixed up again (sorry to use such a disrespectful expression) and work their way back to leading a normal life. To have help then is inevitable and I'm glad some have even a greater one helping. Someone who promised to be the healer of your soul, your doctor even, your comforter and friend and will always be there. He is the sun that will someday dissolve anything dark that clouds your soul and tries to make you forget there still is a blue sky above.

Got a lot of troubles

growing over my head.

They eat up my time

and all my thoughts.

They're like the airplane

in the grey sky above my head

- loud and threatening.

I try to get rid of the noise,

the threatening,

the problems.

I cry for help

but still try it on my own,

don't let anyone help me,

don't let go.

I can't do it anymore!

Now, finally I seek for my God,

don't anymore cry for help

while doing it on my own,

but give it away,

throw everything to his feet.

The loud airplane is gone.

A white dove approaches.

Peace and silence slowly come too.

My head is so much lighter.

A great bird floats under the sky a little farther.

The troubles won't be a threat anymore.

The great bird is replaced by a little one.

They will lose their horror

if I let him do.

A small airplane appears far away.

Then I too will be able

to look at my troubles with distance.

Maybe find out that they're not at all

as threatening

but only seem so.

And even the airplane will withdraw sooner or later.

And there where I just saw grey clouds

the sky is bright blue.

mistakes & knowledge with value

''There is only one kind of wisdom that has social value, and that's the knowledge of one's own limitations''

This is a quote by my favourite author, Dorothy L. Sayers, spoken by a figure who definetely knows a lot about society, wisdom and social value as he is a Lord and a detective. A very intelligent one as he seems to me, but that's not the point. Thinking about it it can be a very good advice how to behave in any society – especially a new and unknown one. The most unpleasant experiences will occur when one pretends to be/know/be able to do something and is discovered to do so. To be known as a boasting sack of hot air and nothing else is not something you'd dream of. So: Mind your limitations. If one doesn't know how to ride, for example, but says he is almost an expert with horses because it fits in the situation and he has no other interesting thing to come up with, this can backfire only too easy when his new friends invite him ever again to riding trips. It may not be easy to be honest but in the end it's the better thing most of the time.

Or something a little more practical: It can be very necessary and useful to know one's own limitations when it comes to alcohol. Why is an aspect I don't think I have to explain... lets just say it can be embarrassing.

And if you are creating an image of yourself it's even more essential to know your limitations, to know what you're able to maintain pretending, what you can and know and what you don't. A bad self-estimation is rarely a support to succeed – it leads to a lot of faux-pas. Even when one's aware of what one can't, one makes a lot of mistakes there (or the other way around: making mistakes create an awareness of the deficits). They're inevitable, especially in new surroundings and societys. Here another Sayers-quote could come in use: ''What is the use in making mistakes if you don't make use of them ?''

I like this sentence a lot. When I'm angry about myself making so many mistakes everywhere I go (yes, I have perfectionist tendencies in a few places, but only about myself) this is a little comfort. Like someone's telling me that there's a use in making mistakes because they are an opportunity to learn. I don't have to think about what I've done wrong especially how I can do it better next time. That's making use of it and learning extends one's own limitations consciously.

All the wisdom in these books has not as much value as the knowledge of one's own limitations …

a little paradox is that I've bought a Sayers book in this antiquariat in Edinbourgh (it would almost even have been on this picture :)

broken flower

Short time ago a girl I know has tried to commit suicide. We're not close and aren't in direct contact but this has shocked me. I have no idea why she did that, and I hope it was a cry for attention rather than a desperate wish for death.

Death is a thing that makes most people finally serious. It has something final, when your life is over, it's over. It's one of the things which cannot be changed, reversed or graduated. Dying, in most cases, is nothing pleasant at all, it's painful and people dread it because they don't know where they are going to. Most people fear it, even those who have nothing else to fear. To protect life and avoid death as long as possible, infinitively measures are taken, from airbags over ambulances and firefighters to food-control. Life is valued as high as nothing else, it's priceless, and everything is done when one needs to save a life.

Only very old people, who have lived a long life, or people, who are in extreme pain, wish for death to redeem them of their agony. What reason can a teenage girl have to want to end her life before it really has begun? Life is wonderful and bright as a flower, but also as fragile. Young people are like buds, not yet fully developed, already beautiful and valuable but in a need to be extra protected so that they can fully blossom in their life, with an unspoiled beauty, without bad scars. Wounds received as a bud damage the beauty of a flower the most. A bud broken before it has opened and blossomed is the most sad thing, a life ended at it's start. Being ripped out of the middle of life, in full blossom is equally cruel. When an old person dies it's sad, but at least they've had had their life. Faded flowers have a sad appearance too, but that's the natural way.

This is just a flower. It would have faded in a few days anyway. A person will die in a few years time anyway.

But when I see this picture I cannot think of anything but the cruelty of death at a time when it oughn't be.

This would be my greatest fear if I hadn't a hope beyond it. Have you ever thought about sudden death? And what then? Someday it'll be too late.

a shell

deep in the sea, camouflaged with brown, grey and black, barely visible on the sandy ground, hiding it's greatest treasure: it's inner content. A hard case, often tightly closed around soft living flesh. The most precious shells are those who once have swallowed something hurting – a sandkorn for example. A shell has no lips to spit it out so she has to live with it. To make it less hurting she clothes it in layers of perlmutt, around and around. After a very, very long time, years afterwards, the efforts of the shell have turned the disturbance into a shining, wonderful and precious PEARL. Unpleasancies, time and patient effort can cause the most beautiful products while on the outside around the hard protecting shells nothing seems to happen or change. The greatest treasures are hidden inside.

what do you think

what do you think is this ?

So many brilliant thoughts (not necessarily only yours about an amateurs photo – I mean really ingenious ones) will never do anything in the world because they simply get forgotten, procrastinated, lost or thrust aside.

Would it have been of any use to them if they had been written down? 

To some, maybe, certainly to a few. On the other hand, there exists such a lot of useless written stuff nobody ever needs. Ninety-nine percent of the world population could very well do without the biggest part of it, but somebody will always find a reason to preserve it. That's why tons and tons of documents, papers and files still molder in enormous archives where something living visits once in a decade.

The value of something written is relative (I know, Einstein said that everything is relative, to precise it, here it's very relative). In fact it's mainly subjective – I don't think I have to line up all the examples - situations where a scrap of paper (that usually would be thrown away without any closer look) can mean everything to somebody. 

The value of thoughts is at least as subjective as this – maybe even more, the other's don't have full insight into one's head to state the thought's value. They can only comment, react and talk. The thoughts are free anyway.

'The thoughts are free' is also a title of a song that was forbidden during the Third Reich. Isn't that paradox? However, no thought can be proved. It's different with spoken words and especially written things. They are counted as secure proofs by the law. For a thought nobody can be punished. 

Still, I once heard a a sentence that too seems to be somehow true: 'What once was thought cannot be taken back' (B. Brecht). 

Who believes in an existing invisible world maybe will agree with the opinion that there a thought is as real as a spoken word. 

And even who does not believe in this, to whom that's strange maybe'll underline this saying: 'Sow a thought, and you will harvest an action. Sow an action and you will harvest a habit. Sow a habit and it will change your life.' This sounds a little dramatic to me, I think there won't be such huge developements of every single thought. 

But as well as every thought has an origin, a trigger, it too has an effect. A very small one often and most of the time only subconscious (but don't underestimate your subconsciousness! You'd be surprised how much your actions and decisons are influenced by it!)

The power of thoughts is enormous. No dictator can completely rule and subjugate people as long as he does not rule their thinking. And manipulating the thinking of a whole nation (without the exceptions who could form a resistance group) is a difficult task most dictators failed upon. There always remained a few 'sane' people whose thoughts stayed free and helped them to resist and oppose.

A thought is often compared with the spark that sets a forest on fire. Small but electrifying and with a lot of energy – as long as it does not get nipped in the bud, forgotten, procrastinated, lost or thrust aside

but pursued, followed, inquired after, kept, preserved and developed.

Cuz everything starts with a thought.

P.s. The solution to the little riddle above: I had the brilliant thought to direct my camera to our rain bassin... now the picture keeps and has even improved the thought of showing what is visible in the water, under its surface and upon it as a reflection.