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Helmut Heißenbüttel (1921-1996)
Bremen wodu
wodu
was
wodu
was
woduwarst
wo
duwarst
inBremennatürlich
under
undwas
warder
warderwas
wardermit
inBremen
wardermitinBremen
jaderwarmitinBremen
undsie
undwas
wardiemit
diewarauchmit
diewarauchmitinBRemen
jadiewarauchmitinBremen
undda
unddawas
unddawartihrallezusammen
inBremen
unddawartihrallezusammeninBremen
janatürlich
inBremen
janatürlichwarenwirallezusammeninBremen
unddahabtihrdas
habenwirwas
obihrdasdagetanhabtmeinich
obwirdasdagetanhabenmeinstdu
obihrdasallezusammendagetanhabtmeinich
obwirdasallezusammendagetanthabenmeinstdu
obihrdasallezusammeninBremendagetanhabt
weißtdudasdennnicht
wasweißichnicht
daßwirdasda
daßihrdasdagetanhabt
jadaßwirdasallezusammendagetanhaben
allezusammen
jadahabenwirdasallezusammengetan
inBremen
jadahabenwirdasallezusammeninBremengetan
unddassokurzvorWeihnachten
W.H. Auden (1907 - 1973)
Quarter of pleasures where the rich are always waiting,
Waiting expensively for miracles to happen,
Dim-lighted restaurants where lovers eat each other,
Cafe where exiles have established a malicious village:
You with your charm and apparatus have abolished
The strictness of winter and spring's compulsion,
Far from your lights the outraged punitive father,
The dullness of mere obedience is here apparent.
So with orchestras and glances, soon you betray us
To belief in our infinite powers; and the innocent
Unobservant offender falls in a moment
Victim to his heart's invisible furies.
In unlighted streets you hide away the appalling;
Factories where lives are made for a temporary use
Like collars or chairs, rooms where the lonely are battered
Slowly like pebbles into fortuitous shapes.
But the sky you illumine, your glow is visible far
Into the dark countryside, enormous and frozen,
Where, hinting at the forbidden like a wicked uncle,
Night after night to the farmer's children you beckon.
Isaac de Benserade (1613-1691)
Rien n'égale Paris ; on le blâme, on le loue ;
L'un y suit son plaisir, l'autre son intérêt ;
Mal ou bien, tout s'y fait, vaste grand comme il est
On y vole, on y tue, on y pend, on y roue.
On s'y montre, on s'y cache, on y plaide, on y joue ;
On y rit, on y pleure, on y meurt, on y naît :
Dans sa diversité tout amuse, tout plaît,
Jusques à son tumulte et jusques à sa boue.
Mais il a ses défauts, comme il a ses appas,
Fatal au courtisan, le roi n'y venant pas ;
Avecque sûreté nul ne s'y peut conduire :
Trop loin de son salut pour être au rang des saints,
Par les occasions de pécher et de nuire,
Et pour vivre longtemps trop prés des médecins.
Richard Dehmel (1863-1920)
Liegt eine Stadt im Tale,
Ein blasser Tag vergeht;
Es wird nicht lange dauern mehr,
Bis weder Mond noch Sterne,
Nur Nacht am Himmel steht.
Von allen Bergen drücken
Nebel auf die Stadt;
Es dringt kein Dach, nicht Hof noch Haus,
Kein Laut aus ihrem Rauch heraus,
Kaum Türme noch und Brücken.
Doch als den Wandrer graute,
Da ging ein Lichtlein auf im Grund;
Und durch den Rauch und Nebel
Begann ein leiser Lobgesang,
Aus Kindermund.
William Blake (1757–18270)
I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.
How the Chimney-sweeper's cry
Every black'ning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.
But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot's curse
Blasts the new born Infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.
Pierre Grognet (1460?-1540)
Je suis Paris, cité de renommée,
Rien ne me fault ; de Dieu suis gouvernée
Auprès des blés suis, et près des prairies,
De beaux jardins, bois et forêts fleuries ;
Dessous y a la rivière de Seine,
Laquelle on tient à un chacun bien saine.
Outre, visez le noble Parlement,
Où l'on peut voir faire bon jugement ;
De nuit le guet punit les malfaiteurs,
Met en prison ceux qui sont leurs fauteurs ;
Des criminels verrez punition,
Et d'un chacun on fait correction.
Biens temporels viennent de toutes parts,
Et les beaux murs sont garnis de remparts ;
Outre voyez les tours et grands églises
Qui sont bâtis par somptueuses guises ;
Sachez pour vrai que l'on fait pénitence,
Compassion par moult grand excellence ;
Dedans Paris avec toute science,
Toutes vertus avecque sapience,
Finalement, c'est paradis terrestre,
Ne reste plus que paradis céleste.
Alfred Lichtenstein (1889-1915)
Ein Städtchen liegt da wo im Land,
Wie üblich: altertümlich.
Und Bäume stehn am Straßenrand,
Die wackeln manchmal ziemlich.
Und Kinder laufen ungekämmt.
Sie haben nackte Beine.
Zufrieden schaut ein schmutzges Hemd
Von einer Wäscheleine.
Der Abend bringt den Zeitvertreib,
Laternen, Mond, Gespenster.
Recht häufig hängt ein altes Weib
In einem kleinen Fenster.
Carl Sandburg (1878–1967)
Hog Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:
They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;
Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,
Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,
Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,
Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the people, Laughing!
Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.
Pierre Grognet (1460?-1540)
Cité d'Auxerre, aimée et renommée,
Ceux de Paris souvent t'ont habitée
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