|
|
|
|
Best Poems From
ERHARD HANS JOSEF LANG
(January 8,1957)
|
|
| |
|
|
53.
|
The Spring Time Of Life Creativity
A spring time of life creativity
Long before us
There once had been -
This is from where we humans, too, are derived -
The Merman and the Nymph within the waters -
Universal Fluidum -
These are our origin, our kinship most intimate! -
And First Man, first to see sun's light on earth
Nourished by the saps through a hole-black Vulva,
Embossed into secret earth retreats,
Centrifugally centripetally
fertilizing,
Would have certainly had, you'd bet,
His visions
Set in tune with the unembodied premium
Young & sportive Cosmic Couple's dream creation world
That had parented Him in Her,
God all around,
Very accurately -
So many funny, strangely physical, quirky
Animal gook & geek heads to be
Visualized in dreamy mindscapes of sudden inspiration then,
Out of which grand seeing in
Gay times of Spring seasons, and a
Veritable peak time in young Nature come alive,
It holds that
The abounding nature spirits possessed of
Ever stronger body dreams naturally are
Pressing for the creation of
Themselves in Earth's solid matters,
All these selfsame animals, first seen in hazy dreams,
Now suddenly hopping around in flesh and horned,
Out there, beyond the loam -
The grand stage enactionment
Orchestrated through alignment of webs from
Threads spun in Cosmic Mind with the lively motions on
The planetary seed of our globe, the
Furtive spur for the earth seed to germinate,
Seconded and carried on further in First Man's visionary faces -
The earthen destillary's utensils handled
Through Her various moods of global tempests
And Her lighter weather tempers,
And Their means of fine-tuning the ladling storms cross- & directionwise,
On this our so revolutionary globe,
Destined to be focused on by real-time Gods in the making,
For the act of
A mysterious Creation's high-spirited,
Cosmodreamvision-empowered encapsulization into divinely
Potent magic seeds of ever more & more variegated new forms and
Figures of Life frolicking, all of which eventually
Chance to be mixed up, boiled and
Served out in seed form by
The adventurously playful cosmic visionaire's
Quickening arm of reproduction
In some deep-bottomed vaginal cups
On the rock of earth, during the festival of this
God's world arena's grand self-enhancement, with all
The happy-go-lucky planet's earth spirits concentrated and
Gathered in for a most favourably weathered
Spring time season of (r) evolutionary creation -
All spiced up ingredients of lively matter red-hot with
Most vibrant energy.
A season, surpassed since long by
Another era of actions on the globe,
The ones before us and the present one,
That but until this very day, though
Not any longer bent on diversifying seed creativity -
(With our human demigods taken over the command
Rather to the contrary as of now) -
Reverberates still so wondrous
Through high and low of the earth planet's go.
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
54.
|
The World's Complex Differences Are Of Aztec Dimensions (with orig. in German)
What holds true for the past
will have to hold true
also for the future.
Not all things will have to stay the way
they are today.
Likewise thinkable were, indeed,
at a suitable time to come,
once also a world wholly without money
which came to redeem one beautiful day
this money-mediated madness of
the capitalistically exaggerated world
which sows so much sorrow next to additional work
and all the unloved pains.
Thus rode, yet completely different from us today,
no real Aztec of his day
ever along on any vehicle on wheels.
To him the round of the wheel exclusively
belonged to the greatest of stars,
to the sun,
so as by visibly keeping with this law
to see to it that he would be walking alway
under his beneficial influence.
Thus on foot only he walked
- moving forward on beasts to ride on
offered itself in hilly areas -
otherwise, if his aristocratic stature allowed for it,
on silent soles he was carried through the countryside
in swaying carriages.
Thus had been the custom among true Aztecs,
and none of them could imagine,
not even in hushed tones,
that things with regards to that would ever be run different.
And yet, all of us today do drive on wheels.
Not even the virgin sacrifices of the early Aztecs
performed with divinely statistical prudence
could have prevented that long since
also their offspring's heads
had become twisted
by the wheel to be ridden on for one's own motion
— though this passed to happen for them
in a through and through ill-forboding shadowy light
far off the old lucky, strictly sunwheel-driven lanes of life.
What holds true for the past
will have to hold true
also for the future.
Not all things will have to stay the way
they are today...
* * * **
the original version of this poem in German:
Die Andersartigkeiten Der Welt Sind Aztekischen Ausmaßes
Was für die Vergangenheit gilt,
hat auch für die Zukunft zu gelten:
Es muß nicht immer alles so bleiben, wie es heute ist.
Denkbar wäre dementsprechend zur gegebenen Zeit
durchaus auch einmal eine Welt so ganz ohne Geld,
die den geldvermittelten Wahn der kapitalistisch übertriebenen
und so viel Leid nebst zusätzlicher Arbeit
und all den ungeliebten Nöten aussähenden Welt
eines schönen Tages abzulösen käme.
So fuhr, noch ganz anders als wir Heutigen,
ein wahrer Azteke seiner Zeit niemals
auf einem beräderten Gefährt mit.
Für ihn blieb das Rund des Rades ausschließlich
dem größten Gestirn, der Sonne, vorbehalten,
um mit dem sichtlichen Einhalt dieses Gebots
gewährleistet zu sehen,
daß er stets und immer auch ja
unter deren wohltuendem Einfluß wandelte.
So wandelte er nur zu Fuß -
das Sich-Vorwärtsbewegen auf Reittieren bot sich im hügeligen Gelände an -
oder, so seine aristokratische Figur dies erlaubte,
er wurde auf leisen Sohlen
in einer wiegenden Sänfte durchs Terrain getragen.
So war der Brauch gewesen unter den wahren Azteken
und keiner der Ihren konnte auch nur im leisesten sich vorstellen,
daß die Dinge diesbezüglich je irgendwann einmal anders laufen würden.
Und doch fahren wir heute alle auf Rädern.
Auch die mit göttlich statistischem Vorwitz durchgeführten Jungfernopfer der frühen Azteken
konnten nicht verhindern,
daß schon längst auch deren Nachkommen das Rad
zum eigenen Befahrenwerden den Kopf verdreht hat —
wenn auch ganz und gar im üblen Schattenlicht
fernab der alten glücksverheißenden, ausschließlich sonnenradbefahrenen Straßen des Lebens.
Was für die Vergangenheit gilt,
hat auch für die Zukunft zu gelten:
Es muß nicht immer alles so bleiben, wie es heute ist...
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
55.
|
There Is Always also Madness in a Sound Society (Translation with Original in German)
In these cells it is where they sleep,
These things here in between human and animal,
Treated they are like good old cattle,
stretched out like the latter on all fours.
How sullen, how dusky it feels all around this house,
And inside of it what a rummaging, stomping and yelling there is!
Here are songs filled with glee and shudder,
There are limbs gone mad chastising themselves.
O madness! Terrible ghost,
Scourge held in hands stripped of flesh,
When soon you come running past with bold looks,
When soon with prying eyes you go stealing yourself off along the walls,
Who shall be there to safe-guard that not your fist all of a sudden
Will be hitting our heads,
And that the mind of one who has shacked up with the insane,
Not long from now will be aping our own selves?
Love fallen sick, pride fallen sick,
We are shutting them all away in iron bars,
From around our measurements made of dried wood,
We tear off each and every unasked-for berry from the vine,
Whatever doesn't think and feel as we do,
We reckon as being of the sickly,
And what if exactly it were a sense of health
Which is speaking from out of their tumbling thoughts?
This is the way you might as well lock away a lion,
With a heartful of courage you'd keep him on display within his bars,
And still your heart be trembling full of fear at his yelling;
Will you call him gorgeous, will you call him free and wild,
When he tears apart the one who cares of him,
And when past his forceful master
He is rambling through the alleys thirsty of blood?
Don't rely too fast on claiming monopoly to 'reason'
Up there on your seats,
The guild of the fools is a big one,
This house of theirs is always kept open for novices.
The one there at the last window,
Years ago she had been a handsome girl,
Diamonds glistening in her hair,
And graceful beauty on her forehead.
For the smiles from her mouth
A gang of foolhardy urchins once were competing,
Now she is laughing on the hallway in a manner,
That makes her voice echo preposterous;
Once they were kneeling down in front of this woman,
Look now, how shameless she is winding herself and
How greedy she is bowing her desecrated body
Toward the knight who is to bind her hands.
I did feel sometimes, when on a walk at night,
Something like the proximity of madness,
Close by, behind of me, clumsy steps,
Laughing and crawing in my ears;
Being seized by the hair in the neck
While hollering my way a frightening tune,
And clear from out of the dark
An eye looking at me in flaming circles.
This is it what makes me shudder and fear:
Not to get into this dreaded house,
Not to be under the fist of these hangmen!
Not to get into that shrieking and that flaunting of teeth!
But yet to this gate all the while
I am being drawn by a mysterious lingering...
Into there, away from it? ...
My foot is on the escape,
As soon as the heavy locks creak.
From SONGS OF A COSMOPOLITAN NIGHTWATCH MAN
by Franz Baron von Dingelstedt (1814 - 1881)
[German poet critical of aristocrats' privileges,
leader of Vienna's Burgtheater in later life],
translated by Erhard Hans Josef Lang after its original in German:
In diesen Zellen schlafen sie,
die Mittelding' von Mensch und Tiere,
Behandelt wie das liebe Vieh,
wie dieses gestreckt auf alle Viere.
Wie dumpf, wie dunstig rings um's Haus
Und drin welch' Toben, Stampfen, Schreien!
Hier Lieder voller frohem Graus,
Dort irrer Glieder Selbstkasteien!
O Wahnsinn! Schreckliches Gespenst,
Die Geißel in entfleischten Händen,
Wenn du bald frech vorüberrennst,
Bald lauernd schleichst an uns'ren Wänden,
Wer bürgt dafür, daß deine Faust
Nicht plötzlich uns'ren Scheitel treffe,
Und daß, der bei den Tollen haust,
Der Geist nicht längst uns selber äffe?
Die kranke Lieb', den kranken Stolz,
Wir sperren sie in eh'rne Stäbe,
Um unser Maß aus dürrem Holz
Zieh'n wir jedwede Wucherrebe,
Was nicht so denkt, wie wir, und nicht
So fühlt, das zählen wir zu Kranken,
Und ob nicht just Gesundheit spricht
Aus ihren taumelnden Gedanken?
So sperrst Du auch den Löwen ein,
Du zeigst ihn keck in deinen Gittern,
Und fühlest doch bei seinem Schrei'n
Das Herz im Leib' Dir bang erzittern;
Nennst Du ihn toll, nennst Du ihn frei,
Wenn er zerreißt, der ihn gehütet,
Und seinem Zwingherrn stolz vorbei
Blutlechzend durch die Gassen wütet?
Pocht auf das Monopol 'Vernunft'
Nicht allzufest in Eu'ren Sitzen,
Groß ist der Narren heil'ge Zunft,
Dies Haus stets offen für Novizen.
Die dort am letzten Fenster, war
Vor Jahren eine schmucke Dirne,
Diamanten blitzten ihr im Haar
Und Anmut von der schönen Stirne.
Um ihres Mundes Lächeln rang
Ein Heer von albernen Gesellen,
Jetzt lacht sie, daß den Gang entlang
Die Töne schrecklich widergellen;
Einst kniete man vor diesem Weib,
Jetzt sieh', wie sie sich schamlos windet
Und gierig den entweihten Leib
Dem Knechte beut, dessen Hand sie bindet.
Ich fühlte, wenn ich nächtig schritt
Wohl oft so was von Wahnsinns Nähe,
Dicht hinter mir ein plumper Tritt,
Im Ohr Gelächter und Gekrähe;
Es packte mich im Nackenhaar
Und raunte schauerliche Weisen,
Und aus dem Dunkel starrte klar
Ein Aug' mich an mit Flammenkreisen.
Das ist, wovor mir bangt und graust:
Nur nicht in dieses Hauses Schrecken,
Nicht unter jener Henker Faust.
Nicht in das Schrei'n und Zähneblecken!
Und doch zu diesem Tore zieht
Mich immerfort ein heimlich Harren...
Hinein, hinaus? ...
Mein Fuß entflieht,
Sobald die schweren Riegel knarren.
(Franz Freiherr von Dingelstedt (1814 - 1881)
XIX - Lieder eines Kosmopolitischen Nachtwächters)
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
56.
|
Tributes To Self-intoxicated Aqua-lunged Nature's Character Of Metamorphic Spitefulness
The first warm-weather weekend of spring
in the Driftwoods forest province way up
in upper central stretches of
beauteous Country of Thousand Lakes,
for once again,
came to be exceptionally gloomy.
Possibly as many as five human beings
lost their lives, drowning,
in different accidental events.
At Skiwalker Hills
the death of
two boat rowing men
was established.
Police and rescue crews,
on that first warm Saturday of the year, were
searching for
a man, slightly above 50 years of age,
who had been reported as missing the day before.
The rescue crew found the man' s dead body,
aided by observations done from an airplane.
During the time of the search
the emergency centre received informations about someone
shouting for help, heard about the northern parts of that same lake.
In the area, where the shouts for help came from,
an elderly man who likewise drowned
was found.
He had left for fishing earlier
that day in the morning.
According to Skiwalker Hills police both men
were in rowing boats
whilst on the water.
The occured incidents altogether, however, came of their own accord.
Two other searches were also going on
that same day.
In the community neighbouring to Skiwalker Hills,
at Cracklecreek,
The whole day long
A fisherman,
whose boat was seen afloat empty,
Was searched for
by sifting the waters with a net.
The fisher nets were yet tied to the boat by its strings..
In another county neighbouring to Skiwalker Hills,
At Acorn Rapids,
likewise on Saturday evening,
a search for an angler went on,
that man' s boat, too, having been spotted empty.
At Pole Waters, in the evening,
a little girl fell into the water,
Fire brigaders resuscitating the girl,
helicopter ' Lord of the Air' taking her up and away for treatment.
* * * * * *
© Erhard Hans Josef Lang
This statuary poem is dedicated to the souls of the drowned persons, along with best wishes for the surviving human
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|