julius dreyfsandt zu schlamm - Prosatexts in different languages
11-07-2024
Schauplatz
. . Einen Augenblick lang leuchtet, was ich mit blauer Tinte schreibe. Das Licht lässt meine Worte wieder verschwinden. Ich schreibe rot. Es ist die Farbe des Todes, die mich angezogen hat. Auch diese Buchstaben werden nach und nach von der Sonne vernichtet. Meine nicht geschriebenen Gedanken sind zeitloser. Ich ritze sie in das Papier, ohne dass es feucht wird. Meine Seele wird von meinen Fingern berührt. Sie lauschen in mein Herz. Du lässt die Tür einen Spalt offen. Aber der Strom spült alles weg. So geht das seit Jahren. Wozu ein Wort über etwas, das alle Welt schon weiss? Nirgendwo kannst du die ewige Liebe halten. Ein Vers in der Finsternis, geschrieben und zurückgelassen. Er lebt lange im Gewölbe der Finsternis. Glauben und hoffen ruhen dort in Stille. Ihre Wünsche sind weißgeschrieben.
. What I write in blue ink glows for a moment. The light dissipates my words. I write in red. It turns out to be the colour of death, which attracts. These letters, too, will gradually be killed by the sun. My unwritten thoughts are more timeless. I engrave them on paper without moisture. Fingers touch my soul. They listen to my heart. You leave the door ajar, but the current carries everything away. It's been like this for years. Why talk about what everyone already knows? Everywhere and here you can't hold eternal love. A verse in the darkness, written and left behind, lasts for a long time in the vault of the dark. Faith and hope rest there in silence. Their wishes are printed in white.
. Todo lo que escribo con tinta azul brilla sólo por poco tiempo, la luz evapora mis palabras. Escrito en rojo resulta ser el color de la muerte que atrae. El sol matará poco a poco también estas letras. más duraderos son mis pensamientos no escritos, que rayo sobre el papel sin humedad. Los dedos tocan entonces mi alma o escuchan mi corazón. Dejas la puerta entreabierta, pero la corriente de aire se lo lleva todo.
así ha sido durante años para qué hablar de lo que todo el mundo ya sabe, en todas partes y aquí; el amor eterno no se puede guardar.
Un verso en la oscuridad, escrito y permanecido, dura mucho tiempo .en la bóveda de las tinieblas la fe y la esperanza descansan allí en silencio con sus deseos impresos en blanco. vigilan todo lo que echo de menos
My father, Karl, has passed away. We have lost a role model for all of us.
He was the son of the prematurely deceased Julius Amadeus and Jeannette. He was born in "Weeping Willow".
In accordance with his last wish, he wanted to be buried in peace. So we stayed away.
At the entrance to the cemetery, we said goodbye to our Karrie.
He wanted to walk the last few metres alone. His motto till the end was: I will go on alone, far ahead.
That meant we could not drag him beyond the gate at the cemetery entrance.
Karl was an immodest man, a man who liked to show off.
As a father, we rarely got to see him because he was always ahead.
Whether it was the brass band, walking with the banner or a blessing procession through the village.
My father would pass by, but always in the front row.
This kind of forward behaviour was an old family trait. In better times, our family belonged to the aristocracy around the Duke of "Pig County". Even in those days, the Schlammetjes were at the front of the queue.
Nowadays, the term "heelser" is used. It is a corrupted word for "For me all the glory".
So my father was a man who walked by. He never cast a sidelong glance at us.
He took his job very seriously. He walked ahead of the procession, looking straight and striding. Look at me, he must have been thinking the whole time.
He kept leading the procession to the end. We still wonder how he could get so many to follow. Yes, he led in large numbers, encouraged by our mother, Holy Church.
But my mother, Charlotte of Deperssion , had her complaints from time to time: "Charles always finished too early".
In this area, we are left with big questions. Father did not talk about it at all.
So being first also had its drawbacks. You are also the first one home. This is a turn-off for someone who wants to be there first anyway. Wanting to be seen. These days this is called: "profiling" or "running ahead of traffic".
My father didn't learn a trade. In the old days, there was no need. People used to be taught how to kill time.
Now he did something to kill time. Early in the morning, he left home. His wife, Charlotte of Depression , lived up to her name.
Like his father before him, the father had chosen a wife who, apart from room for procreation, left little room for further joy. Jeannete, born Depression, was troublesome in daily life. Not only in weight, but also in her face, which radiated the image of a dying swan all day.
Father was an avid collector. His great love was the Sachets de Sucre, which were a speciality in those days. Nowadays we just say sugar sachets.
When he came home in the evening, he was stiff with caffeine.
This was the second reason why we decided to keep our distance from him.
Perhaps this answers the questions we had about father's sex life.
Father had no friends. He used to say, "I don't need followers.
He wanted to lead." ....
Fortunately, he was able to spend some time at the nursing home "The Last Hope." Or as he himself used to say
"I live in "The Last Throne"." That sounded a bit fancier. What's in, doesn't come out....
So, on behalf of the family, my thanks to the staff. There must have been many prayers to St Patience.
So viel Unsinn ist geschrieben worden, diese dichte Ebene und Brache voller Leere hat keinen nennenswerten Inhalt. Darum hüte ich mich, zu intrigieren, von ganzem Herzen. Nicht, dass ich nichts zu sagen hätte. Du kennst mich doch wie deine Westentasche. Heute werde ich es vermeiden, dich zu quälen, heute werde ich dir keine sinnlosen Betrachtungen und keine unpassenden Gedichte auf deinen reichlich beschmierten Teller legen.
Ich biete dir todlangweilige Langeweile voller sinnloser Worte.
Ich dachte, ich wäre immer noch im Gespräch über mich selbst, über den immer wiederkehrenden Stau im Straßenverkehr oder von der Fliege, die ich zu töten versuchte. Aber nein, auch das ist nur ein hohles Gefäß.
Einschläfernd ist mein Schreiben jetzt. Es lädt die armen, leeren Gedanken ein. Wie wunderbar, nichts tun zu müssen, nichts, was aufbaut oder den Schmerz lindert, sich nicht nach reimendem Jammern zu sehnen.
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 75 jaar jong.
Mijn hobby's zijn: Mijn hobby's zijn: music improvisations organ and other instruments. julius.dreyfsandt.zu.schlamm@gmail.com.
Ik ben , en gebruik soms ook wel de schuilnaam Julius V.E. Dreyfsandt zu Schlamm.