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Best Poems From
ERHARD HANS JOSEF LANG
(January 8,1957)
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73.
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The Bowing Millennium Miracle
Three young kids from hillside Madagascar, a boy
and his smart elder sister while
showing the ways of the world to their big-headed
infant sibling
took to a windy plateau of slashed high plains
for some breezy repose
from the wanderings in the heat of day.
There in that pocket of valley,
near the place of the Mada kids' reposing
the pilot of an aeromobile
flitting through skies from
continents way over yonder,
suddenly suffering a fit of
mechanical heart trouble,
deemed it proper to
venture his one last possible recourse
out of his high-daring carrier's
impending exitus terminal,
a safely ended emergency landing.
'Hey Rija, look, what is
this? ! ' cried Noro, the boy,
who first noticed their
alien surprise visitation.
'Here comes a giant bird, oh
look how huge it is!
But doesn't it look dull-eyed? ?
It seems to settle here,
where there's no waters nor woods.
What for? ? ? '
'Oh look! ', exclaimed
Rija, 'it's opening its entrails.'
'Oh yes, it seems terribly over-fed
and feels like disposing of
its waste out here.'
'It has preyed and fed on living beings, ones
just like you and me,
see this!
And they are still alive and
yet moving. The bird must
be coming from the
Southern polar land of
penguins with its cold
sunless caves.'
'Yes, their faces are all lime-gray,
just like of those stone-washed
strange white cave-lizards
that never see the day of light,
down there at the far end on our
neighbour island Nosy Bee.'
'Now this monster of a bird
seems to have recovered,
look, Rija! '
'It instantly healed its open
skin wound up after gushing out
its litter, but look, there it
seems set aflame, all red
all of a sudden.'
The plane exploded.
- - - - - -
'Our folks in the village
won't believe us, if we tell
them what we've seen! ! '
'The real big giants seem to
also catch gigantic
sick fevers. Have you ever
heard of any of us
going through such a terrible
attack of bad fever,
that, before giving up his spirit,
even his very body were
burnt away wholly
by the inner flames,
like this giant's? '
'But now, just look at these
objects of cave-dweller
faces, ridded out the dying
giant before, and their strange
thick hairy leaves
all wrapped around them.'
'Oh yes, they are coming
towards us, all with their
feet shod in kind of camel-hoofs.'
'And they're all flapping
some kind of shiny toy
gadgets in the sun. What is
THIS? '
'It looks like mirrors with
boxes attached that they're flipping.
What for are the boxes on the mirrors?
Maybe they can trap the mirrored
image inside the box.
Just remember the magic box
of old Shaman
Andranantana,
he can do many more things
than just keeping your image
in his box.'
'But why would THESE here, aliens,
cavern folks from far away,
be doing this, flapping magic
mirrors here on our fathers' lands? '
'We're lucky that we called
early this morning again
our loving spirits and elves.
They will stand by our side.
These here might want to
disown our lands or
own our souls -
but don't be afraid, Rija,
our spirits and elves will
never forsake us.
Their very lives is the joys
in life with us as tending to
them, while they, in return,
are playing with us at will,
by their powers that they
will share with loyal servants
like you and me
in times of need.'
'Yes, heart of brother, thus
nothing to be afraid of!
Nothing could shake our
nature! !
We stand on grounds as
solid as can only be, with us the
happiest of hilltribe peoples
in the world.'
And the three young kids
from hillside Madagascar,
by that time, already were
hugging some of the
stranded white cave men,
before any of their miracle
boxes could have mirrored
off even one eye of their soul.
And all was alright with them
under the setting tropical sun.
The rest, what happened
from then on,
was all human,
as gigantical as
it was not for the birds.
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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74.
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The Laurel Wreath (translation)
Across the shores of the five continents
the winds went carrying the messages:
The power of a mighty one does not go down,
the clan of our pioneering forefathers is still alive!
In its name again
was done a new harvest
of unforgetful fame.
This is why the nation's gratitude on this day
will bind foreheads in laurel leaves.
But too scantily this triumphant people would be thanking its elite
as supple as warriors,
if a twig of laurel leaves were to be enough for them.
No - your wreath should be one that's not fading
on the temples of your heroes' faces,
land of our birth! -
Can we make this gift? -
Yes, we can -
remembering that not in the tremor of sounding horns,
but only with each one's labour ready to serve,
we can tie the wreath.
Our own endeavour for achieving the capacity
rendered noble by an outstanding deed,
look, there this wreath is.
Let also us do as they do!
Again and again thus new names would impress
on our stone-tough chest
the reputation of a rock,
thus into times far and away
moving over a wreath not fading.
(written by Finnish poet
Uuno Kailas (1901 - 1933) for the planned wreath coronation festivity
for Finnish winners of the Olympic Games in Helsinki of 1928, transl. by
Erhard Lang, submitted on July 6,2006, the day the border station
between India & China, Nathu La, has been re-opened, after having
been closed in 1962 due the Indo-Chinese war)
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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75.
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The Will In The Animal
Why won't the acclaimedly intelligent beings of the animal world,
Called the humans,
Eventually understand the language of their fellow creatures?
What for example the message of two cute icebears were,
Who, amidst the dreadful melting away,
From underneath their bear feet, of
Their ice-shaped habitat on the Polar Cap,
Experienced already for over two generations,
Took to such great pains as to
Embarking on a hazardous
Kind of last-chance kamikaze trip of
Hundreds of kilometers,
Partially swimming, partially afloat
Atop drifting ice blocks,
All the way from Greenland to Iceland:
'It is you, you presumptive two-legged lords on the planet,
None else but
You,
With these magic mirrors of your killer-blink-eye hanging
Around your proud necks,
Who art guilty of the reckless diminishing of
Our home in the polar ice!
Since you are ultimately bound for extinguishing us altogether:
Shorten this painful life now,
Shoot, if you can, now! '!
People's lives are led in this magic mix of our world,
So you say,
By intuitions from consequences
We choose to involuntarily take part in,
And you say,
For a major part
People's lives are led
By all these fair & unfair provisions of Providence
We inevitably take shares in,
And by intimidations and by acts of aggression for self-maintenance,
So you say, our lives are led, too.
I once asked a modern Socrates about this thing,
One bald-headed bold-hatted clear-minded thinker
With a prickly animal instinct in his head -
One also you might have met already once
In a tiny far away forest ville.
He remarked to my questions:
'But where is the will of the animal in this concept? '
Well, well well, I said, and am pondering now:
'What makes any whale suffer to go back up the Thames again, after a lapse of 92 turns of the sun? '
I now feel the winds of the will in modern scientific man
When he spreads
'The life of a whale wistfully straying in people's waterways
Must be that of one misled! '
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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76.
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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
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