I, who am
in the present, i am
just like yesterday
you are that in a moment
of being a child and everything that follows
I must say that I still have little to do with early spring
yes, I know about it
then I am once again that older man with
the mind and body of an adolescent who cannot go any further
where even on a single day man leaves behind
what no longer fits
and he could never have known in advance
that life as such appeared
only to fall asleep again afterwards
but where my whole world was liberally
fitted into dreams
.
in the present, you are
also the uncertain hope for a vibrant tomorrow
or when I look around me carefully,,,,
the suffering of her and him and you;
and also my worries in the unexpected
still hidden or sheltered
my guts won't let me go
I've been carrying them all my life
didn't I regularly lose myself in the woods,
through much light and loss, grief and love
and did I find, on the horizon, much insight and peace
actually, I am a dice with all its sides
sometimes I played the game, out of self-preservation or
fate carried me on its hands and I groaned meekly
every day sowed warmth or scattered salt
but I was also granted the distant views beyond the sea
the sounds of the keys followed my soul
which sounded melancholic but also intense;
Fortunately, there was a layer of honey when I fell again.
Yes, I have become a windmill, chased by the wind,
but also a kind of grab bag where the moment grabbed
to let go, which, despite everything,
I find again and again in my exhalation.
Under my winter coat, I carry my soul, my body,
young in spirit and creative,
but also the insight into the truth most of all
.
ah, I am loved more and more impartially by myself,
.





