Ein Versuch

Könntest du meine Zuflucht sein,
wenn ich rastlos durch die Zeit laufe?
Denn ich habe seit langem davon geträumt,
Dass ich zu Hause irgendwo mich fühle,
Und selbst wenn deine Ohren weit, weit sind,
Als ob du freiwillig meine Worte nicht hörst,
Vergiss nicht, Schatz, dass ich hier bleibe,
Mit aller Kraft versuche ich darauf warten,
Dass du irgendwann, irgendwen findest,
Die dich froh macht, und dann werde ich froh auch,
Denn es ist richtig, du hast Liebe in deinem Sinn...
Obwohl ich nicht das Bild deiner Liebe bin.

Pastime

I'll wear my pride until it's tattered;
Until time ties me to a reply:
Forgiven marble with pointy skies.
And thine, the game I never dared win;
The shoulder I never had the chance to cry on.
But had I reason to shed tears, thou ask?
I'd known myself till thou unveiled the mask.
Thou ne'er saw my place before thee:
Serene marble with open skies.
And thine, the chess-table with one chair aside.
Was this thine ambition?
To rob me of my knights and squires,
Shatter my throne, tear my crown?
What argument hast thou now,
Wouldeth thou've sent me then,
While mourning my realm,
Another pawn to serve the purpose?
What replacement wouldeth've that made?
Thou say'st I know too well:
Encrypted marble, restored skies.
A queen is free when hope is not -
Grasped by the horrid hands of fate;
I raise my head, thou sayest it suits me,
Better than any gown I'd ever wear;
Thou send'st thine lords to reach my castle,
I send thee word that they had better leave -
They know the path to walk, thou walked it first
When thou'd return from my revelries ere now.
Rememberst thou how we danced till dawn?
Thou'd sayeth I was the most gracious of all -
Doubt never touched my heart, thou see'st;
Yet thine promise, to be thine queen, did ever.
Then what receiv'st thou, upon conquering?
Hail from every soul thou reignst upon?
"No, ma'am, thine beautious hand to hold I wish",
Art thou sane enough to breathe?, I ask.
"No, ma'am, for before my conquest,
I never was intent to hurt thine heart.
Thine conscience has taught me well, indeed,
To search first above my head for beauty."
Thine voice cannot turn my head with joy,
For I cannot cheer the ashes, if there is no fire.
What was I to thee? A pastime dull?
The challenge of thine existence?
Should the latter be thine thought, as it is,
Pray be quiet, speak no further.
I have endured few worse sounds.
"I cannot sit still, ma'am, do forgive;
I intrude to make it known, I'm chained!
Thine soft marble face, the skies I love,
Chain me further, silence cannot do!
Thou art the first, I fear the last;
I have my reason, do hear my word:
The pride of a king hath a short life,
Whereas a queen's survives a falling sky,
A gentle brow is deep enough to carve
A failing castle, back upon its grounds;
I could have not been me, thine grateful slave -
The palace nearby wouldeth have sufficed to me;
Yet the grief unbearable for a king, I know,
Wouldeth have turned my smile in a voiced terror.
I cannot injure my people to the extent there is;
But thou, ma'am, can'st see the shadow of my heart -
The remainder of a joyous ocean
Has turned apace into the mellow pound thou see'st.
Then I thought, perhaps too wrong I did,
That thou wouldeth help my shards of glory.
I never was intent to hurt thee, ma'am,
But rather help thee build thine story."
Thou'st learnt thine speech well, I gather;
Thine face shows little of what you tell though;
Sought thou my guidance, my compassion were thine;
Yet thou pretended to help me, my trust for thee fell.
I know not now what my response shouldeth be;
Thou seem'st to strengthen thine words,
Thine eyes no longer wander hereabout;
Thou fancy'st that I needeth thine aid,
A good remark that, I fear, cannot be paid
But with a most visible laugh, I bid thee adieu -
"Ma'am, leave not, I have ere exposed my armor
To the powerful sunlight, thou can'st not leave;
My pride may not live long, I doubt it not;
Thou can'st neither, for thou see'st my eyes,
Thou hear'st my voice now, pray remain;
My pride may not live long, yet it is alive;
Now still, I feign to understand thine pain.
I can't however, have forgiveness,
For no other king has proven strong enough
To urge me - be thine fellow in distress!-
Yet ma'am,--"
Say no word, or I shall take my all and leave!
Thou hast hurt me long enough,
No price that has been paid can be refilled!
You have left me empty, deserted -
Your army, indeed, better than mine;
I have endured everything, but thine bragging
I can bear not! How can'st thou say,
With so peaceful a grace, that I,
Without courage, without might at all,
Was unable to reject thine forfeit,
That I'd let myself fall, kneel even before thee,--
"Ma'am, hear my plea, I beg;
These words I have never said, upon my word!
But rather feigned to see myself
The best of warriors, yet I can see
These words do not embrace thine fear;"
Fear?! Sense'st thou fear among the storm?
Then the rain can't wash the dirt upon thine eyes!
"Then have I no hope at all? Art thou still that far?"
Thou givest me no choice, I cannot love a hollow star;
Thou art of remarkable marble,
Upon a distant sky.

A Princess in a Tower

Fright appeases,

Hollow heart.

Ink is dry

Eloquent desert.

Numb arms

Love defied.

Deigned expectance

Poisoned ears.

Induction

Where is tomorrow?
I only make it to another moment.
But were my story bright,
Attached to my own description,
Reaching the apex,
My path would be gone a million times.
My balance would be genuine,
My lies less visible;
Yet I know how to chase my fury -
Back into the fiery walls
Against the green-eyed terror,
A quick grasp of the pen,
A childish movement -
A poem.

I have my shreds of conscience,
I live to seek and then soothe hearts;
Yet my quest is not of underrated prey:
No, indeed, I challenge my ears to do all parts;
And so I'm quiet, yet I hear each word.

There is no mask which could wholly cover
The shreds of truth I keep inside so well;
No, indeed, I am but too defensive -
Yet one knows not of me,
So how could one tell?

I've met with fear of solitude, which I never understood;
I've met with people that had no rights at all;
Yet, if I am not mistaken, all were of one kind;
Fear is a state, not a right, and this they all knew.

Still, I have yet to find one distant;
and charming, peculiar, and when I have,
I'll pray that he comes to my aid at once.
And I'll try my best to have him assured
That he isn't quiet and hears no word.

A Tedious Affair

A tedious affair, his shadow to abide!
I should not trust his words or eyes;
Whoever was so drowned in pride
To extend our patience to a further size?
No, I should not agree at all.
My mistake may attain no remarkable price,
From this very angle, it is but too small;
I have his regrets written in an ink's disguise.
He thinks he can ascertain my strength;
Should I leave at once the sill?
Is he the one upon whom I depend?
Were he to come at last, this deal to seal!
Yet I see I have an ailment;
My head turns, my eyes confound
Everything I ardently call sentiment
Leaves me not in the least profound.
For I am not steady, nor constant,
Yet there's one thing I would much rather do:
Better to thrive in solitude, be distant,
Than to string my nerves on you.

Contemplation of a Silent Kind

Your foe's friend is your foe.

Your foe's foe is your friend.

Your friend's friend is your friend.

Your friend's foe is your foe.

I am not certain whether this I am entitled to write. It would be rather dull to insinuate that I am not disturbed by even the smallest gaze which may be directed from them, upon me. It is, indeed, delicate to exercise my rights, as a writer, and therefore to oblige each reading eye with the masked intentions I now am indulgent with and choose to express.
As a humble reader of others, I have been intrigued by certain creations and phrases of brilliant minds. Stubborn though they were on their literary path, success was on their side. The victory of a long gone hour appeases me, as I read and read, and wonder: why would a mind of such exquisite temper and capacity be, in turn, intrigued by monstruous conducts?
Yet today I was given the answer. As I strove to comprehend the limits of my liberty, a constantly fading thought surprised me with its bitterness and lack of objectivity. I shall not give away the answer, but rather attend to an example.

Upon the very pavement that you shall be walking, the aim in question being your obtaining an upcoming advantageous bargain, for this is what you are looking forward to, unconsciously you shall pass by everything that your ignorant pair of innocent eyes fail to notice. It is not the remarkable sky that escapes your sight, nor the open-hearted people you shall leave behind in your walk. No, it is the air that you will be breathing, upon your arrival, that will cost you more than you are able to pay.
The air, that is, for that air is a mass of brilliancy. You may never know whom you are sharing it with; whom you are avoiding each and every day, with perfect simplicity of arguments. No, for you shall only be in need of recreation and every so often, new garments.
That air belongs to the eminent composer. To the misunderstood empress. To the fallen kings. To the unparalleled philosophers.
And you? A toy in a spoiled child's hands.
You cannot reach your own reason, in spite of any effort you may be as kind as to make. For you are lost.
You, with your companion, as you both are not worthy of any of this (and perhaps your friend has come to this conclusion), you, spoiled minds, choose to spoil in turn the miraculousness of the fortress you feign to love. You are not entitled to.
Oh, I know very well, too well, even, that the world is home for everybody. Alas, I am but too selfish and spoiled myself, to take into account this truth!
Therefore, I state my opinion: you have no right to have what you have.
For an artifact is for a preserving environment. Entertainment one can find only between those limits that I was so eager to discover.
You are delighted upon seeing a fashionable dress; and after reconsidering, I find that your hopeless mind should indeed refrain from attempting any further. Do not tell me, pray, that yours are profound ideas! I know you too well to underestimate you. You are what you are.
But the society, with its wicked pace, has turned the fortress into a matter of choice.
You may live herein as you wish, you have everything at your disposal; do not walk on the grass is our only request.
Whoever counts the location among their wishes is most welcome; there are numerous ways of providing entertainment, as you were stating, time and again!, while the first drafts of the excursion were being drawn. Yes, a most endearing soul can find distraction among the kingdom. One matter that is prohibited is one's disrespect for the elders.
Elders? How come elders are to be respected?
Elders... yes, the ancient buildings and renowned squares; on your fancy device which you most oddly call 'phone' you can find them, and not only that it is most indicated that you visit them, but you also have to provide photographic evidence of the events. Oh, I am most greedy in my explanations, but is there a chance for me to breathe?
Home is where the heart is - my favorite six words. I am excessively fond of my heart, for it is torn in seven; my heart is to be found in several places, among which is the fortress I have previously mentioned.
Therefore, I cannot let you destruct my heart - it is not among your rights.
And most importantly, I would hate to see you content with your accomplishments, for, dear foe, you have none.