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PDF Gedichte - Lyrik: Die Feder (German Edition)

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Seller Inventory V Delivered from our UK warehouse in 4 to 14 business days. Item added to your basket View basket. Proceed to Basket. View basket. Continue shopping. Title: Gedichte. United Kingdom. Search Within These Results:. Erzalende Gedichte. Die gro? Neu hrsg. Nach dem handschriftlichen nachlass verglichen und erga? Delhi, India Seller Rating:. Seller Image. Gedichte Eine Auswahl aus ihren Gedichten.

Mit einer Charakteristik der Dichterin, hg. Historisch-kritische Ausgabe. Gedichte zu Lebzeiten, Dokumentation. Die Droste : Briefe Gedichte Erza? Erster Teil: Gedichte - Letzte Gaben. Zweiter Teil: Das geistliche Jahr - Jugendgedichte. From: biblion2 Obersulm, Germany Seller Rating:. Gedichte Annette von Droste-H? They sit frozen in their gear. The world lies done in coloured cubes upon the palace floor.

Rainer Maria Rilke (1875–1926)

A flickering candle. Dropping through cloud over Aachen it was Anastasis, as bright as day. And I was Christ, and I reached for the hand of Adam. Never grasping. How can this remorseless bird be flying so high up? What life obtains inside the Dove? Where is the dawn? This night must either be ending now, or going on for ever.

It is one more riddle. I plot and plot, but cannot get us home. Author's note: Anastasis is Christ's Harrowing of Hell. I was imagining a moment of timelessness at the moment of death in which these individual souls meet and are confused. The poem shews the effects of reading Randall Jarrell concurrently with H. Moss's The Birth of the Middle Ages , from which part of the epigraph is adapted. Reprint by kind permission of Peter Didsbury. Achtzig und ein paar Jahre alt. Ich bringe alles durcheinander. Navigation ist das, glaube ich.

Sylvia Geist

Gerade so viel Licht, dass es den Tisch beleuchtet. Licht bleibt ein Problem. Wenn der Mond durch die Palastfenster scheint, bricht er sich am Boden. Was habe ich hier verloren, vierzig Jahre danach? Oder sind es noch mehr? Eine flackernde Kerze. Und ich war Christus und streckte die Hand nach Adam aus. Bekam ihn nie zu fassen. Wie kann dieser unbarmherzige Vogel nur so hoch oben fliegen?

Welches Leben herrscht in der Taube? Entweder muss diese Nacht jetzt enden, oder sie wird ewig dauern. Wieder und wieder stecke ich den Kurs ab, kann uns aber nicht heimbringen. Ich stellte mir einen Moment der Zeitlosigkeit im Augenblick des Todes vor, in dem diese Seelen aufeinander treffen und sich vermischen. Sonnet no. Reprinted by kind permission of the author. Auch die Frau. Und die Sonne. Trachten von neuem danach Frau und Sonne zu sein. Und die Frau dreht sich. Dreht sich um sich. Um den Fluss um das Meer um den Ort und den Mann.

Wiedergabe mit freundlicher Genehmigung von Brigitte Fuchs. Brigitte Fuchs Quotes All rivers flow to the sea the sea never fills up. Also the woman. And the sun. Racing back to the place out of breath. Attempting anew to be woman and sun. You should remember the flight the poetess writes the bird is mortal. And the woman turns. Turns around herself. Around the river the sea the place the man. In between. Translated by Johannes Beilharz with kind permission of Brigitte Fuchs. The night adjusts its weight like a club, horribly close in the thick breeding darkness; and I alone, feeling its hairy pressure probe me, like a gorilla.

A candle burns on the table, and clear wine stands in a glass. I watch you smoothing out your past like skin, moving about the cool inhabited kitchen; or on the beach, a quiet hysterical child, touching seashells, hoping they are real. The sunsets sap you like an internal wound.


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Or talking to bees now, the whole angry tribe bristling behind glass, in needful confinement. Eager to kill, or what did the noise mean? What do they want you for? Producing honey however, regular as your bleeding seasons.

The Nietzsche Channel: Nietzsche: Poems / Gedichte.

Your love appalled me then, breaking the sky branchily, distending its fist of nerves, exposing raw wires, crimson filaments, while scorching in the sun's acute voltage your days vaporised like gasoline. Previously unpublished. Publication by kind permission of John Waterfield.

Eine Kerze brennt auf dem Tisch, im Glas leuchtet heller Wein.


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Wozu brauchen sie dich? Forever thirty-seven And in perfect health chewing The heads off dandelions and theorists.

Which right-thinking critic Would not like to put to sleep This unconcerned ecologically hazardous. Phallogocentric brute Once and for all in that Endlessly rocking cradle of his? But damn Whitman! There's no putting him out He says his sex contains all bodies, souls. This his self-description: Stern, acrid, large, undissuadable And help! Interminably Far back on that reckless Passage to India descending radiating. Affected by a chronic logorrhea It's clear the fellow abhors a silence, babbling All the time of puzzles to be solv'd and blanks to be fill'd.

Ah how I'd like To introduce Walt to wordplay Brackets and all the joys of paranomasia. How he'd love it too! Whit e man caring not a whit Careening down passion's witless slopes. Waltzing with Whitman Could be such fun but he flatly Refuses to rise to all my intellectual baits. Whitman will not Be in this year or the next It's the uncharted courses he's out to explore! This poem was written after I overheard a discussion at an American university about whether or not Whitman should be included in the syllabus, given his overt sexism.

Many of the phrases in my poem are direct quotations from him. Previously published at Poetry International Web. Reprint by kind permission of Rukmini Bhaya Nair. Endlos angetroffen Vor langen Zeiten auf jener gewagten Indienfahrt, wie er herabsteigt und. Einige Zeilen des Gedichts sind direkte Zitate aus Whitman. Wiedergabe mit freundlicher Genehmigung von Erwin Einzinger.

Wild track, land without return, how much depth Is this allowed? Translated by Johannes Beilharz by kind permission of Erwin Einzinger. Fe Berg Ich werde geliebt haben Wiedergabe mit freundlicher Genehmigung von Fe Berg. Fe Berg I will have loved I will have loved she thought one half day as it was raining you'd never kissed a face this wet before I will have loved in the darkest corner of this low dive here's where I wanted to stay.

I will have loved in a tiny hotel surrounded by flowered wall papers the morning brought many swallows and one grand song. I will have loved she thought and we did not have time my love had many faces I was a tree and she was a tree but we flew in different directions. Inspired by Michel Houellebecq's poem Fin des parcours possible. Translated by Johannes Beilharz by kind permission of Fe Berg. Published here by kind permission of Sujata Bhatt. Snow-geese had never come so far the local papers claimed. When I leant out the passage window there they were, guzzling behind the shack left empty and sore the year they looped the northbound track around the wayside platform.

In vain I hunt for them now among the flocks of big grey birds. Is that all you want to say?

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How casual too, is your tone. But I am blind to everything else as the down of your letter flutters from my hand. Mehr hast du mir nicht zu sagen? So unverbindlich auch dein Ton. Der Barde. Ein Preisgedicht. Claudius Claudianus, Werner Taegert, Michael Bernsen, Schon wenn es vornehmlich Ludwig Wolff, Kaarst — Aus den zahlreichen Einsendungen ermittelten die Auswahlgremien nun in den vergangenen Wochen die Preisgedichte des Jahres Die Jury Zitiert man diese Briefstelle, muss man aber zugleich darauf hinweisen, dass Busta nie dumpfe Blut-und-Boden-Lyrik geschrieben oder Preisgedichte auf den Ein Gedicht zu