julius dreyfsandt zu schlamm - Prosatexts in different languages
21-06-2024
I sometimes pile barren flowers on my field of feeling.
there was first blind hope to radiant expectation
like bees rashly sniffing a honeyed bush node.
in words have long since ceased to count as they pile up on shards of broken glass, cutting me into carnal parts, not once, but again and again, again and again and so on of incessant convulsive resistance.
here I stand aging and see around me the missed opulence, drifting far away in dying fatigue.
i look back, i can't, it was life that robbed me.
Even the only reaching hand waved away my longing.
the indispensable has been crucified. i no longer call. I walk away into nothingness
21-06-2024 om 19:51
geschreven door juliusdzs
I feel in the peace of your womb
and dream of timeless pleasure
spreading like circles in the ditch.
What and the caressing fingers that run over my questioning body.
I spread my letters over silent thoughts
and imagine myself for a moment in your paradise
What more can I expect on this restful journey.
21-06-2024 om 19:48
geschreven door juliusdzs
almost I go
Or am I already gone
No, as I say
Longer than the long linden avenue
It is more like flying over trees
no oceans but wide streams
that is
on the way to the other language
the most beautiful but unintelligible
that is a double story
I notice while doing
I write myself away
into the future, which
also lies behind me.
I won't interpret it any further
That's already let that bell ring
though a heavyweight
that sounds in the sky
Yes, only conceivable in thought
Or tangible in feeling
It is also like waiting for a past
that beckons permanently
a single soul knows what I mean
but I won't go there
under the blue roof, perhaps grey
I carry a symbolism in stone,
metaphorically speaking
I seek a bridge in the sky
with an illuminating sigh
blowing or in a rumour
it's about, I call it
the slow gait of
a shuffling toad
he knows no better
doesn't think either
is not a man after all, not even looking
for the know-it-all
his existence goes on
inch by inch
he goes as he should
his way is continuous
how lucky he is, he doesn't know any better
21-06-2024 om 19:47
geschreven door juliusdzs
condemned to insight is my time of present,
suddenly a boundary is marked to the past.
I still think of the roof terrace so close and near your dying.
we are you cold, you asked and gave an imaginary warmth.
it helped ward off the cold of the moment outside, and outside our ring.
we shared, clearly, a moment of opulence
21-06-2024 om 19:46
geschreven door juliusdzs
Come, look, you are so welcome in my eyes
Experience the gentle gaze that looks at you. Colouring you through fine sparkling crystal.
Come to me, give me your hand. My touch will be fleeting as my fingers play upon the skin of your body.
Listen to the sound of the voices that sing of the silence.
the two of us, enveloped by one another's breathing.
21-06-2024 om 19:44
geschreven door juliusdzs
With heavy words or playful chords, the poet lays a carpet for the the nearness of being.
He is of such weight that his ego is often shrouded in the fog known in London. He describes his hazy sins with great ease.
With dark vigour he often declares his own mirror.
in
21-06-2024 om 19:43
geschreven door juliusdzs
My Mokum is tuned into a grey existence by a drizzle of rain.
As I look over my lukewarm coffee, I can see the rippling water of the canal passing me by.
There is no bustle of colourful people today.
The Through me pass the wishes of the past and a hope that is heavier than lead.
21-06-2024 om 19:42
geschreven door juliusdzs
Walk with me on the way from here to there, and from there to where?
Let us seek and find. Let us discover and experience what may bind us.
We are silent aloud. We hear only ourselves.
From As if in a resounding vault where the unspeakable is echoed.
You through me, I through you, mirrored through both of us.
the spring is alive and the passion is our drive
21-06-2024 om 19:41
geschreven door juliusdzs
No one sleeps or consciously closes their eyes, the silence of this night can scream or wonder again.
It is not in my power to isolate the silenced feelings of this moment in a simple way.
Unconsciously, my heart is seized by past thoughts of Latin chants, but also by the dream of waiting again.
But
21-06-2024 om 19:40
geschreven door juliusdzs
Join me in playing the solo, an important part of the soul in a human score.
A quatre mains for an unattached couple playing at the same time and side by side.
They come together in the Andante, but find each other again in the rapid Presto. They do not allow themselves to be robbed of their freedom by the solo constant.
21-06-2024 om 19:39
geschreven door juliusdzs
Born from the paradise of warmth and abundance
with the loss of essential connection, I became dependent and burned, and my soul separated. I lost the sense of oneness.
This is where my loneliness was born. It is so human and fundamental. It awakens the inevitable feeling of desolation in death.
I My authenticity is close to my soul. It can blossom only if I am willing to grow towards the other and if I am willing to share myself in the garden of unconditional affection.
Only then, yes only then will I be led to a restorative, pure connection.
21-06-2024 om 19:38
geschreven door juliusdzs
It's not that the light goes out quickly when there is fog on the windows.
But you feel every sound that comes in differently. It is more stripped of the earthly.
It is usually a slower song from your own heart also is the noise from outside that closes the auricle.
The In silence, everything solidifies and changes colour. It mocks the impure, it lifts boundaries.
You become soft and invulnerable. In perfection there is only the scent of roses.
But then you already dwell in eternity, waiting for the liberation of the senses and the soul from gravity.
21-06-2024 om 19:37
geschreven door juliusdzs
For a long time I closed nothing
no doors
no mouths.
I sometimes through the grey.
And I listen to the sound of you,
the other,
still cold as stone
or as soft as a feather.
No, I don't close.
I open when you let me smell
the scents of your soul.
And then sometimes detect the moisture,
again and again,
of the tender child within you.
Where fear has always sought you out
and you have fallen over the thresholds
The dawn has rarely been tender to you.
21-06-2024 om 19:36
geschreven door juliusdzs
Suddenly, the departure presents itself.
And soon I am going to leave the interior
of this foreign country.
An I have moved further in the resignation of my sparkling spirit.
All of this in a reflective and humorous connection
with the people who are close to me and to my heart.
But also the depth and the openness of some unexpected "
passers-by" and so called "local friends".
A precious sharing of diversity and respect.
Unintentionally or automatically, layers of the soul
were in touch with each other,
with the useful reflection of common sense.
They were rare gatherings.
There were silences or sounds at tuned frequencies.
21-06-2024 om 19:35
geschreven door juliusdzs
Jetzt, wo ich wieder zu Hause bin
steht mein Atem still.
jedes Mal suche ich nach dem Sinn
und darüber hinaus zu sehen.
Ich brauche mindestens einen Tag,
um Raum für die Wellen zu finden
die durch mich gehen
21-06-2024 om 19:34
geschreven door juliusdzs
I had forgotten how big your eyes were.
how playful they could be.
saw them again for a moment.
I the passion I felt.
had forgotten how beautiful you were.
you knew how to play with my world
with your smiling flirtation
that I could read on your lips.
what you said caressed my heart
as I imagined that you belonged
only to me, like the first time,
I went through it again and got lost.
21-06-2024 om 19:29
geschreven door juliusdzs
Still now allready, you might say.
at over seventy years of age.
should I continue to concentrate only
on the conservative poems
or should I put down a recital on the stage?
something that lingers on from oatmeal to oatmeal,
during the grip around the microphone on stage
I try to crush short intriguing poems or as prose in length.
something that must also have a permanent taste
of an endless chocolate bar and an aura that draws
the listener to you as I cut my words without trimming,
even if I let them roar loudly from a passionate crater.
will my poetic writing now stagnate in history?
it is like floating in polluted water.
I am no longer writing about the later,
am bound by my own fetters and so I linger on
as yet another crisis that wants to interfere with the passage.
yes, the wordless view is in sight.
the bilge is close by and is not moving,
that is what the 'reality' is illuminating;
I am a man of few words, nor of endless artistry
and address myself more as a bricklayer
who has to limit himself to his core in a short time.
I have sufficiently explained my limitations.
and have landed back on earth:
the scope of my work is defined
by the space available on paper.
I wonder if this is the way I still love to write,
if this is the end or a new beginning.
21-06-2024 om 19:25
geschreven door juliusdzs
Der Ritter und der Tod liefern sich einen Kampf um den Auftritt.
Es kann auch sein, dass mein Verstand der Spieler in diesem Kampf ist.
Sind sich die anderen dessen auch bewusst?
Oder Sind es meine eigenen Hormone?
Oder nur mein materieller Drang zum Überleben?
Was will mir mein - ich - immer wieder und immer mehr
mir als Endlosfilm zeigen.
Alles deutet darauf hin: Die Nacht zeigt den Untergang
aber auch, dass der Tag in meinem Atem noch am Leben ist.
Es ist eine Spaltung, in der ich mich manchmal zu erstarren scheine,
und dass ich weniger in Balance bleibe.
21-06-2024 om 19:23
geschreven door juliusdzs
Liebe wächst, wo Licht ist. Wo es leuchtet, blüht sie auch.
Auch wenn du aus meinem Blickfeld verschwindest. Oft wird sie in der Nacht gepriesen.
Manchmal ist es ein leiser Seufzer. Manchmal sind es einige Momente, die sich aneinanderreihen.
Im Es sind Zählungen aus der Zeit des Jahres, die man den Frühling nennt.
Wo Hoffnungen und Sehnsüchte groß, herrlich oder klein erscheinen, es kann nicht in Zeit und Dauer gemessen werden,
oft nicht in Maßen.
Und lässt sich nicht mit einer Hand fassen oder mit Sprache erklären.
Sie überwältigt dich. Sie färbt deine Wahrnehmung. Manchmal am Ende einer Betrachtung, in der Tiefe, in der Stille...
Die Liebe als Trägerin der Herausforderungen.
21-06-2024 om 19:22
geschreven door juliusdzs
L'amour croît là où il y a de la lumière. Là où elle brille, il s'épanouit aussi.
Même si tu disparais de mon champ de vision. Souvent, il est loué dans la nuit.
Parfois, c'est un léger soupir. Parfois, ce sont quelques moments qui s'enchaînent.
Dans Ce sont des comptages de cette période de l'année que l'on appelle le printemps.
Là où les espoirs et les désirs semblent grands, glorieux ou petits, cela ne peut pas être mesuré en temps et en durée,
souvent pas dans la mesure.
Et ne se laisse pas saisir d'une main ou expliquer par le langage.
Elle te submerge. Elle colore ta perception. Parfois au terme d'une contemplation, en profondeur, dans le silence.
21-06-2024 om 19:20
geschreven door juliusdzs
Over mijzelf
Ik ben
, en gebruik soms ook wel de schuilnaam
Julius V.E. Dreyfsandt zu Schlamm .
Ik ben een man en woon in
Nijnsel (Nederland) en mijn beroep is
proza dichter/poet .
Ik ben geboren op 14/07/1948 en ben nu dus
77 jaar jong.
Mijn hobby's zijn: Mijn hobby's zijn: music improvisations organ and other instruments. julius.dreyfsandt.zu.schlamm@gmail.com.
J.Tourbière de Sable - poèmes en français (schuilnaam Franse teksten) Johannes Revisius (schuilnaam impr. componist)
UN LEGADO PROSAICO
Ik ben , en gebruik soms ook wel de schuilnaam Julius V.E. Dreyfsandt zu Schlamm.