geschrieben wurde.
Es ist fast immer lustig, etwas zu finden was jahrelang aus den Augen verschwunden war. Seit Computer für mich erschwinglich waren, habe ich versucht, Dinge zu speichern. Das Ordnungsprinzip dabei ist allerdings nicht ganz durchsichtig und so kommt es schon vor, dass ich etwas überhaupt nicht finden kann, von dem ich sicher weiß, dass es da ist.
Das meiste ist ja ziemlicher Mist, was da einmal zusammengeschrieben oder gereimt wurde.Nicht einmal originell. Ich war damals scheinbar von Frosts Stil beeinflusst.Aber manchmal ist es besser als eine Tagebuchaufzeichnung.


der erste Eindruck ist von einem Bild beeinflusst, das über meinem Schreibtisch hängt. Eine Kopie (vermute ich) eines Aquarells, 270 * 30 cm, das den Ausblick vom Kahlenberg auf Wien zeigt.

Title: WATER

(Vienna 1800)

The freedom of the river danube
two centuries ago, was genuine.
A crossing of the stream at Vienna
not a majestic endeavor it was
but hopping over islands that were formed
by manifold of rivlets when the river tried
to find its easiest way.
My loves were like the rivlets, steady and
as true of me as were the little muddy streams
that can be found today as remnants of those ages.
Was not I true to myself letting nature split
my powers.
But split they were and I was bound and all
my freedom was just following a trivial call.

(Vienna 2000)

The river has become a public ressort, now.
And everybody can enjoy the one or other stream
that calmly passes by the city.
There is more power to the streams although
So tamed they seem.
And if one tried to swim across the closer stream
one would encounter force and power and detouring,
one would not reach the point you had intended to.
And when from all the loves emerged a single one
that tamed my wildness and had me found my goal
in knowing what I wanted.
And like the river I was split in two, a life
of former affiliations and the new that promised
giddiness and joy and true and never felt emotions.

Waterfall

Unlike the ressort places that invite for rest and
peaceful entertainment the stream of my true love
approached a waterfall.
The edges and the rocks made little swirls and if
the river was my love so I was shaken in my boat.
And every move I made to fight me off the cutty edges,
threw nearer me to just another riff.
And then I felt how strong that love would be.
It would transport me where I would not like to go,
the flow however had already taken me.
So just before the big fall came,
so came the knowledge and conviction that
Right this stream it was, that I had wanted
whereever it would take me, -- even to the fall.

Dam

My love is dammed now, all the freedom's gone?
Every drop in my abundant sea has memories
of forests, rocks and squirling speed.
It's loaded with enriched forces that are to be of use,
whenever one decides to open gates and let the water flow.
No forests anymore, no sky, no moon or sun.
The water will be pressed in tubes and will drive engines,
yielding power, light. A little trickle can be seen
when all is over.
The love when pressed in tubes might yield for knowledge,
peace or wisdom. Who is there to know?
But what I know and that I know for sure
that love has not been lost and not so has been lost its power.



The bad impacts of dams (8.8.2002)


If I learn from nature than I have to see
that dams can be of harm. So let me take this as reminder.
Open the gates, open the gates, open them.