| Tjorven | Auch ich möchte hier einige meiner Gedanken mit euch teilen. Über Feedback, Kritik, Anregungen etc. würde ich mich sehr freuen LG Tjorven Zu dem folgenden Gedicht hat mich Kafkas 'Verwandlung' inspiriert. Ausschnitte aus dem Originaltext sind im Gedicht enthalten. Deadly Loneliness Bin ich ein Tier? Eine traurige und ekelhafte Gestalt? Geduldet, nichts als geduldet. It seems to me there was a time – long, long ago When I had friendship, even love Now that seems like a dream from someone else’s life When did you start despising me – I don’t remember Why? - I don’t know I have stopped asking You call me ugly, and that’s what I’ve become My soul a captive in this prison of skin and bones If I have a soul at all But if I hadn’t, how could I feel all this pain? Yes, I do feel pain Your sharp words hurt me like knives, and yet I long for every single one of them Because sometimes you don’t even have words for me Only tiny noises of disgust A frown, the raising of a brow as I walk by Looks full of loathing – If you look at me at all I survive - On the egdes, nearly out of sight Moving slowly, carefully, not to awaken your lethal fury Still, also your cold indifference is killing me Slowly, piece by piece But maybe this is just what I deserve I wish it was already over I wish I was already Gone Er machte bald die Entdeckung, dass er sich nun überhaupt nicht mehr rühren konnte. Er wunderte sich darüber nicht, eher kam es ihm unnatürlich vor, dass er sich bis jetzt tatsächlich hatte fortbewegen können. Im übrigen fühlte er sich verhältnismässig behaglich. Er hatte zwar Schmerzen am ganzen Leib, aber ihm war, als würden sie almählich schwächer und schwächer und würden schliesslich ganz vergehen. Den Anfang des allgemeinen Hellerwerdens draussen vor dem Fenster erlebte er noch. Dann sank sein Kopf ohne seinen Willen gänzlich nieder, und aus seinen Nüstern strömte sein letzter Atem schwach hervor.[ [URL=http://www.nachtwelten.de/vB/showthread.php?s=&postid=1492866#post1492866]Feedback[/URL] |
| Tjorven | Dark Lullaby Sleep well, my dear Let me put you to rest I will lay you down in the black soil Let it cover you, warm you Protect you from all harm The nightingale will sing you a lullaby The wind whisper you goodnight Don't be afraid, my dear 'cause I will be with you Watch over you, so nobody disturbs your sleep I will set for you a stone with your name carved out in letters of gold I will plant for you a rose And you will be in my heart Forevermore [URL=http://www.nachtwelten.de/vB/showthread.php?s=&postid=1492866#post1492866]Feedback[/URL] |
| Tjorven | Restless There are people everywhere So many people They all seem to know exactly where to go All but me They pass me by, but they don't see me I am invisible, because I am a stranger to this town I have forgotten where I came from, and I don't know where I am going But action is the enemy of thought, and that's why I must keep on moving Night is falling, and the streets grow silent I am alone with the wind and the lights reflecting on the calm black water Tiny snowflakes touch my skin and turn into drops of water that run down my face I am tired and soaked to the skin, but still I keep on walking My steps, my breath and my heartbeat become one The rhythm that keeps me alive as long as I walk The rhythm is all that I know |
| Tjorven | Self Portrait Why do I have to see your face every time I look into the mirror? You seem such a nice girl, a good friend, a loving mother and wife But I know you better You can't fool me with your innocent looks, your friendly smile, your lover's talk 'cause I can see what is behind I know who you are, two-faced goddess of hypocrisy Your words are like empty shells Your smile a polished surface Your love a promise that will never be kept 'cause you don't really feel anything at all I cannot but despise you you are so fuckin' vain, it makes me sick to even look at you Now you tremble, for your know your hour of punishment is near My nails will pierce your skin, scratch your pretty face My voice will haunt you, and you'll be begging for mercy in vain 'cause I am right here, inside of you always |
| Tjorven | Diesmal habe ich mich an einer Nachdichtung eines dänischen Gedichtes (Original von Tove Ditlevsen, 1943) versucht: The Streeet of your Childhood I am the street of your childhood the root deep within your soul I am the living rhythm in everything you’re longing for I am your mother’s busy hands and your father’s troubled mind The light and silvery cobweb of your very first dreams entwined Your first heartache you shared with me on a cold and rainy day I gave you my own great earnestness and a bit of melancholy I wanted to make your heart tough that’s why I struck you right in your face but then I helped you get back to your feet again and wiped your tears away It was me who taught you to hate to mock, to hurt and to fight I gave you the strongest weapons you must learn how to use them right I have made your eyes watchful, I’ll always find them again if you meet someone with the same look in his eyes you’ll know that he’s your true friend And when you hear beautiful voices singing in harmony you’ll be longing for the sound of my voice, rough as it used to be Have you travelled oh so far? Have you left your oldest friend? - I am the street of your childhood – I’ll always find you again |
| Tjorven | Und hier noch einGedicht das ein wenig aus dem Rahmen fällt weil auf deutsch und weniger düster als die meisten anderen: Sommertage Sommer Unbeschwerte Tage voller Wärme und Lichtgeflimmer Aufgereiht wie bunte Perlen auf einer Schnur Der Sommer trägt Ohrringe aus Zwillingskirschen, einen Löwenzahnkranz im Haar und schmeckt nach Erdbeeren und Sauerampfer Dieser Tag ein ganzes Leben, Süsse, unentdeckte Welt Sonne auf meiner Haut Nackte Füsse auf feuchtem Gras und heissem Asphalt Fliederduft, das geschäftige Summen der Insekten Wogendes Seegras und zielstrebig dahineilende Krabben Beobachtet durch das Glas der Taucherbrille Surrende Mücken, Abenddämmerung über einem See Sein stilles, kühles Wasser umgibt mich Donner und rauschender Sommerregen Der würzige Geruch von feuchter Erde Mittsommerfeuer Die weissen Nächte des Nordens Die süsse Last eines schlafenden Babys in meinem Arm, Sein flaumig weiches Haar an meiner Wange Ein kleines Mädchen an der Reling eines Dampfers Wind in ihrem Haar, Möwen schreien, Gischt spritzt um sie her „Schau!“ ruft sie mit leuchtenden Augen. „Schau!“ Doch ob es meine Stimme ist oder die meines Kindes, vermag ich nicht zu sagen Vergangenheit und Gegenwart, Erleben und Erinnerung Werden eins im pulsierenden Rhythmus des Lebens Mit jeder Faser meines Wesens spüre ich die ungestüme Freude: „Ich lebe! Ich bin!“ Ich sauge das Mark des Lebens in mich auf Leere bis zur Neige das Füllhorn, das der Sommer mir reicht |
| Tjorven | Hab mich wieder mal an einem Songtext vergriffen - das Original ist von [URL=http://www.larcsix.de]L'Arc Six[/URL] Und hier ist nun meine Version - meinem Mann gewidmet Hope See this girl, she used to walk with her head down Too shy and too afraid to meet anyone's eye But now she's dancing wild and free, the music is loud And she is smiling at him as he whirls her around And she's walking with hope in her shoes Knowing there's nothing she can lose See this man, he used to sit on his own Went out into the world but never found a home Now he's walking through the night, humming to himself His steps are light because he knows that he'll see her again And he's walking with hope in his shoes Knowing there's nothing he can lose See this pair, they don't seem much alike They come from two different worlds, a thousand miles apart And yet they share every day, walking side by side The road that lies before them is open and wide And they're walking with hope in their shoes Knowing there's nothing they can lose |
| Tjorven | What remains The trace of a touch The echo of a kind word The shadow of a loving glance Tiny reflections of light on the dull grey surface of habituality A lonely, stray note from a dancing tune Left behind in the never ceasing rhythm of working days These are the remains of a love |
| Tjorven | Memories of Love What must I do before you look at me again? What can I say to make you listen? Who should I be so you can love me? Was it all just a dream, a mere illusuion? The tender glance I once saw in your eyes The soft words you spoke to me The gentle touch of your hand that I remember so well Where has it gone, my friend? I do not know Now all I have are memories |
