Nur gefühlt - Liebe in Gedichten (German Edition)

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Oh I am good to you. I stroke Your shoulders. A wicked blue. The Doric temples.

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Pregnant with roses, The plains. Fields Expire into their asphodel death. Lips, bold and deeply filled like chalices, As if blood from its sweet place was hesitating, Roaring through a mouth of early autumn. Oh the sorry brain. You sick thing, deep in the bloom Of your dark brows! Smile, be bright: The violins are shimmering a rainbow.

♥-- Ein LiebesGEDICHT {Love Story-German/ Deutsch}

Sie friert. Der kleine graue Stock in ihrer Hand Friert mit. Wird klein. Will tiefer in die Hand. O Marmorlicht! Du rauschst so an mein Blut. Du helle Bucht! Du rosa Staub! Du Ufer mit Libellen!


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Im Veilchenschurz. Machtloser grauer Strand. Kein Boot, kein Segel geht.


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  8. Wer nimmt mich winters auf?! Spa concert Beyond cripples and bathing proletarians, Sunshades, lapdogs and Boa scarves, Beyond the autumn sea and the ditty by Grieg: Whether Iris will come? It is freezing.

    Schwanengesang

    The small walking stick in her hand Is also freezing. Gets smaller. Wants to go deeper into her hand. The bell flowers, enclosed in your scarve, The white cross of your parted hair and teeth Contrasts, when you laugh, so sweetly with your brown skin! You steep, white land! Oh marble light! You are the intemperance of my blood. You bright bay! The relaxed expanse of your shoulder blades!

    The delicacy of the skirt around your knee! You, rosy dust. You river bank with dragonfly! You, from the sides of a bowl ascending In bursts of violets. Surrounded by breasts loudly bloomed! Oh autumn and a return home across this sea! The gardens subside. The grey shores lie impotent. No boats, no sails flutter.

    Who will take me now in winter time?! From so many distances blown together. From so many stars newly-born. Just before this river bank: — Iris leaves. Untergrundbahn Die weichen Schauer. Der Strumpf am Spann ist da. Doch, wo er endet, ist weit von mir. Ein armer Hirnhund, schwer mit Gott behangen. Ich bin der Stirn so satt. Ich will wandern. Blutlos die Wege. Schatten und Sintflut. In the Subway The soft shudder. Early bloom. As if from warm fur, it comes straight from the forest. Red swarms up. Hard blood rises.

    Through full spring the new female comes. She wears her stockings, stretched. But there, where they come to an end, is beyond my reach. I sob at their edge. Sultry fecundity, alien moistures. Oh, how her mouth devours the tepid air! You: rose-mind, sea-blood, twilight-goddess. You: bed of earth, how your hips flow so coolly down the passage through which you walk. Life is now beneath her dress: all white animal, relaxed, with mute scent. I am a wretched dog-brain, heavy hung with God, sick of the mind. Oh, that a frame of clustered blooms should gently take its place, and swell and stream and shudder.

    So detached. So tired.

    I long to wander. Bloodless those paths. Songs from the gardens. Shadows and the Flood. Buchtet sich ein und aus. Ich will versinken. And anyway love hit me, the snouts of two whores bulge forward. Gyrates in and out. I want to lose myself. Let me die. Give birth to me.

    Ich schlage mit der Stirn am Marmorblock die Form heraus. Ich bin mir noch sehr fern. Aber ich will Ich werden! Wir wohen in einer engen Bucht, ausgebaut an des Dorfes Ende.

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    Davon bin ich so entstellt. Unerbittlich ist der Kampf und die Welt starrt von Schwertspitzen. Jede hungert nach meinem Herzen. Young Hebbel You chip away and fashion: with supple chisel and a fine soft hand. I beat form out of the marble block with my brow.

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    My hands work for my daily bread. I remain to myself still distant, but I will become me! There lies someone deep in my blood who cries for heavens of gods and earths of men, which he has made for himself.