Diary

 

In spring I adorn.
Many things due to come.
Find joy – that I have sworn.
A bud of the plum.

Endless it is no more -
Insects’ cry to the stars.
To drift was summer’s core.
The rain will leave scars.

My floors are twisting.
There’s banging on the wall.
It’s three in the morning.
Some ghost came in fall…

I sit on the bed.
Winter’s cold is a lake.
Snow’s sinking to my head.
This life – for whose sake?

 

 

Schwindel

 

Obgleich zu Dir, oder gar einmal mir,
Es Frische Brise tragen mag; wird,
Schlierend über Feucht, Grau und Gier,
Nur neuer Reiz der And’ren hier

Und ruft man sie so oft denn noch,
Verdrossen starrend in die Fern’,
Erwartungen des Windes gleich; meist
Schallt nur gern’ durch Mitte Loch

Zum Schwindel lädt der Töne Tanz,
Bedränglich großer Achtung freit,
Soll Zeiten Schwung nicht rauben;
Damit am Haupt zuletzt blüht Kranz

 

 

Sonnet II: The Planet of Ends

CROWN OF SONNETS
I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV

 

Our first celestial crossing itself primes
When glimpse of red he catches from his heights
Alas not bright, yes – mudded like the nights
Here Death‘s entrance is heralded by crimes

Where dost thou, Orbit, take me? Almost whines
Then spots a soul… on charr‘ed earth cites:
“I shan’t die, I shan’t die, not while he fights!”
A lad, now crossing all enemies’ lines
Searching, crawling through a field of mines
Hoping, praying for his dear missing friend
Already perished, no chance to amend…
Mankind’s crest, blooming into white noise and
Burying skies: final steel-clad light shines

Yet, for travelers, this is not The End