Friday afternoon, after five. The rain, rain, rain has pushed out east . Behind One KC Place the last cloud. Two minutes left to catch the bus out of town for the weekend.

May 21, 2010

Es treibt der Wind

Es treibt der Wind im Winterwalde

die Flockenherde wie ein Hirt,

und manche Tanne ahnt, wie balde

sie fromm und lichterheilig wird,

und lauscht hinaus, den weißen Wegen

streckt sie die Zweige hin - bereit,

und wehrt dem Wind und wächst entgegen

der einen Nacht der Heiligkeit.

Rainer Maria Rilke, 1875-1926

The Wind It Drives

The wind it drives, through winter woods

a shepherd of this snowflake herd

and where a pine knows, soon it could

stand pious, bright, out in the world

and listens, down these trails in snow

her branches reach out for the light

and fights the wind, where she will grow

up for the highest, holy night.

Not as I was

Back then, inexperienced,
And more modest than I am today
I had the highest regards
For others.

Later, out there in the pasture
I met calves other than me
And now appreciate, so to speak,
First myself.

(My translation of "Früher, da ich unerfahren", a poem by Wilhelm Busch in Criticism of the Heart, 1874)

Weihnachtsfeierlich

Weihnachtsfeierlich der Wald
Tännlein, Christlein stumm und kalt
Welt in Heiliges gewickelt
Sofakissen, bunt bestickelt
Sterne schweben, hoch und klein
Nachbarshund jammert
Ganz allein.

Aus Schokolade, braun und stramm

Aus Schokolade, braun und stramm
Mein süßer, zarter Weihnachtsmann
Frisch aus seiner Weihnachtsfolie
Geschenkt zu meines Bauches wohl, ja
Wer hatte jemals so ´nen Freund
Der niemals dieses Fest versäumnt
Der massenweise produziert ist
Den man sorgenfrei allein frisst
Oder, wenn gezwungen, teilt,
Brüderlich, sein Weihnachtskleid.
Oh Du selig, frommer Mann
Mein Schokoladenweihnachtsmann.

Christmas Eve at the Office

We looked for an early dismissal
A three o'clock, five o'clock whistle
Yes, work is OK
But we'd rather play
Say now, and I'm out like a missile.

(Waiting for the word to leave early for the Holidays!)

Evening in the barn

Evening, there along the wall
Expectant eyes in every stall
Is it me you've come to see
Do come closer, petting's free
Don't really care about your day
I'm here, right now, to eat or play.

Fourteen faces, countless looks
Biographies concealed in books
Not yet written, not yet told,
So listen, hear their hearts unfold
A quiet nicker over there
A tail twitch stirs the fragrant air
That muzzle on a flake of hay
A hoof stomped in a certain way
Or perfect silence, dark and empty
For me, this evening, more than plenty.