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Tuesday, May 20th, 2008
3:49 pm - Ich komm an dir nicht weiter
Ich komm an dir nicht weiter,
komm an dir nicht vorbei.
Du bist so weit gegangen -
kann dich kaum noch erkennen.
Ich werde jetzt nichts sagen,
bevor ich nicht weiß, was ich zu sagen hab,
und ich werd so lang schweigen,
bis ich weiß, wie's weitergeht.

Bleib stehen,
sei ganz still.
Bleib kurz stehen -
will dir in die Augen sehen.
Wie's weitergeht, das weiß ich nicht.
Ich brauche dich und brauch dich nicht,
kann nur mit dir, kann ohne dich -
kann ohne dich nicht weitergehen.
Schwer zu verstehen, wie's weitergeht.
Ich brauche dich und kann doch nicht ...

Du hast so oft gelogen,
und ich hab dich hintergangen.
Wir haben uns weichgeredet,
doch meistens gar nichts gesagt.
Wir haben uns blind verstanden,
doch nie was gesehen.
Wir haben uns eingeredet,
irgendwie wird's schon gehen.

Bleib stehen,
sei ganz still.
Bleib kurz stehen -
will dir in die Augen sehen.
Wie's weitergeht, das weiß ich nicht.
Ich brauche dich und brauch dich nicht,
kann nur mit dir, kann ohne dich -
kann ohne dich nicht weitergehen.
Schwer zu verstehen, wie's weitergeht.
Ich brauche dich und kann doch nicht ...

Ich komm an dir nicht weiter,
ich komm an dir nicht weiter,
ich komm an dir nicht weiter,
komm an dir nicht vorbei.

Ich weiß es nicht -
ich brauche dich und brauch dich nicht,
kann nur mit dir, kann ohne dich -
kann ohne dich nicht weitergehen.
Schwer zu verstehen, wie's weitergeht.
Ich brauche dich und kann doch nicht ...

Ich komm an dir nicht weiter,
ich komm an dir nicht weiter,
ich komm an dir nicht weiter ...

(Rosenstolz)

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Wednesday, May 14th, 2008
7:17 pm - Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen
Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen,
Die hat einen andern erwählt;
Der andre liebt eine andre,
Und hat sich mit dieser vermählt.

Das Mädchen heiratet aus Ärger
Den ersten besten Mann,
Der ihr in den Weg gelaufen;
Der Jüngling ist übel dran.

Es ist eine alte Geschichte,
Doch bleibt sie immer neu;
Und wem sie just passieret,
Dem bricht das Herz entzwei.

(Heinrich Heine)

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Sunday, May 4th, 2008
7:00 pm - Sonnet 96
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness;
Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport.
Both grace and faults are loved of more and less;
Thou mak'st faults graces that to thee resort.
As on the finger of a throned queen
The basest jewel will well be esteemed,
So are those errors that in thee are seen
To truths translated and for true things deemed.
How many lambs might the stern wolf betray
If like a lamb he could his looks translate!
How many gazers mightst thou lead away
If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state!
    But do not so: I love thee in such sort
    As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.

(William Shakespeare)

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6:53 pm - I Do
When I'm done with thinking,
then I'm done with you.
When I'm done with crying,
then I'm done with you.
When I feel so tired,
then I'm done with you.
You know, everybody feels this way sometimes,
everybody feels this way -
and I do!
You can't hear it, but I do.
You can't hear it, but I do.

You're trying to convince me
that what I've done's not right.
And I get so frustrated,
I stay up every night.
You ask me for an answer,
I'm so tired and I'm up in the air,
I'm up in the air.
You know, everybody feels this way sometimes,
everybody feels this way -
and I do!
You can't hear it, but I do.
You can't hear it, but I'm feeling this way
just because you say
I would be ignored
and I would be denied,
I could be erased,
I could be brushed aside.
I will get scared
and I will get shoved down,
but I feel like I do
'cause you push me around!

I'm starting to ignore you -
I've doubted you so long.
I'm tired of overthinking -
I know you don't belong.
Now I'm asking questions -
no one pushes me around!
You know, everybody feels this way sometimes,
everybody feels this way -
and I do!
You can't hear it, but I do.
You don't seem angry, but I do.
I do,
I do!
You don't seem angry, but I do.
You can't hear it, but I do.
I do ...

(Lisa Loeb)

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Monday, April 28th, 2008
9:15 pm - Sonnet 95
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame
Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose,
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name!
O, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose!
That tongue that tells the story of thy days,
Making lascivious comments on thy sport,
Cannot dispraise, but in a kind of praise,
Naming thy name, blesses an ill report.
O, what a mansion have those vices got
Which for their habitation chose out thee,
Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot
And all things turns to fair that eyes can see!
    Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege:
    The hardest knife ill used doth lose his edge.

(William Shakespeare)

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Wednesday, April 23rd, 2008
8:53 pm - Sonnet 94
They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who moving others are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow -
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet
Though to itself it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet
The basest weed outbraves his dignity;
    For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds:
    Lilies that fest smell far worse than weeds.

(William Shakespeare)

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Monday, April 21st, 2008
4:41 pm - Kopfüber in die Hölle
Revolution stand auf unsern Fahnen,
Revolution stand uns im Gesicht.
Wir haben erlebt, was andre nicht mal ahnen.
Revolution - weniger wollten wir nicht.
Das ist noch nicht so lange her,
doch heute kennst du mich nicht mehr.

Wir haben geträumt von einer bessren Welt.
Wir haben sie uns so einfach vorgestellt.
Wir haben geträumt - es war 'ne lange Nacht.
Ich wünschte, wir wär'n niemals aufgewacht.

Revolution, wir wollten weg von der Masse,
kopfüber in die Hölle und zurück.
Heute stehst du bei Hertie an der Kasse,
da ist keine Sehnsucht mehr in deinem Blick.
Du sagst, man tut halt was man kann,
und dir geht's gut - du kotzt mich an!

Wir haben geträumt von einer bessren Welt.
Wir haben sie uns so einfach vorgestellt.
Wir haben geträumt - es war 'ne lange Nacht.
Ich wünschte, wir wär'n niemals aufgewacht!

(Die Ärzte)

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Friday, April 11th, 2008
2:25 pm - Avalanche
I stepped into an avalanche,
it covered up my soul.
When I am not this hunchback that you see,
I sleep beneath the golden hill.
You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn, learn to serve me well.

You strike my side by accident
as you go down for your gold.
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
is neither starved nor cold.
He does not ask for your company,
not at the centre, the centre of the world.

When I am on a pedestal,
you did not raise me there.
Your laws do not compel me
to kneel grotesque and bare.
I myself am the pedestal
for this ugly hump at which you stare.

You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn what makes me kind.
The crumbs of love that you offer me,
they're the crumbs I've left behind.
Your pain is no credential here,
it's just the shadow, shadow of my wound.

I have begun to long for you,
I who have no greed.
I have begun to ask for you,
I who have no need.
You say you've gone away from me,
but I can feel you when you breathe.

Do not dress in those rags for me -
I know you are not poor.
And don't love me quite so fiercely now
when you know that you are not sure.
It is your turn, beloved,
it is your flesh that I wear.

(Leonard Cohen)

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Friday, April 4th, 2008
10:41 pm - Sonnet 93
So shall I live supposing thou art true
Like a deceived husband; so love's face
May still seem love to me, though altered new -
Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place.
For there can live no hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change.
In many's looks the false heart's history
Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange;
But heaven in thy creation did decree
That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell;
Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be,
Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell.
    How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow
    If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!

(William Shakespeare)

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Tuesday, March 18th, 2008
8:23 pm - Erinnerung an die Marie A.
An jenem Tag im blauen Mond September
Still unter einem jungen Pflaumenbaum
Da hielt ich sie, die stille bleiche Liebe
In meinem Arm wie einen holden Traum.
Und über uns im schönen Sommerhimmel
War eine Wolke, die ich lange sah
Sie war sehr weiß und ungeheuer oben
Und als ich aufsah, war sie nimmer da.

Seit jenem Tag sind viele, viele Monde
Geschwommen still hinunter und vorbei
Die Pflaumenbäume sind wohl abgehauen
Und fragst du mich, was mit der Liebe sei?
So sag ich dir: ich kann mich nicht erinnern.
Und doch, gewiß, ich weiß schon, was du meinst
Doch ihr Gesicht, das weiß ich wirklich nimmer
Ich weiß nur mehr: Ich küsste es dereinst.

Und auch den Kuss, ich hätt' ihn längst vergessen
Wenn nicht die Wolke da gewesen wär
Die weiß ich noch und werd ich immer wissen
Sie war sehr weiß und kam von oben her.
Die Pflaumenbäume blühn vielleicht noch immer
Und jene Frau hat jetzt vielleicht das siebte Kind
Doch jene Wolke blühte nur Minuten
Und als ich aufsah, schwand sie schon im Wind.

(Bertolt Brecht)

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Wednesday, March 5th, 2008
2:40 pm - Sonnet 92
But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine,
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs
When in the least of them my life hath end.
I see a better state to me belongs
Than that which on thy humour doth depend.
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
O, what a happy title do I find -
Happy to have thy love, happy to die!
    But what's so blessed fair that fears no blot?
    Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.

(William Shakespeare)

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Monday, March 3rd, 2008
6:08 pm - Sonnet 91
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,
Some in their garments (though new-fangled ill),
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse,
And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest.
But these particulars are not my measure;
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,
Of more delight than hawks or horses be,
And having thee of all men's pride I boast,
    Wretched in this alone: that thou mayst take
    All this away, and me most wretched make.

(William Shakespeare)

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Sunday, February 24th, 2008
10:13 pm - Sonnet 90
Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now,
Now while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after-loss.
Ah do not, when my heart hath scaped this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquered woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow
To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite,
But in the onset come; so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune's might,
    And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
    Compared with loss of thee will not seem so.

(William Shakespeare)

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Wednesday, February 20th, 2008
7:27 pm - Sonnet 89
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
And I will comment upon that offence;
Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt,
Against thy reasons making no defence.
Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill,
To set a form upon desired change,
As I'll myself disgrace, knowing thy will.
I will acquaintance strangle and look strange,
Be absent from thy walks, and in my tongue
Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell,
Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong,
And haply of our old acquaintance tell.
    For thee, against myself I'll vow debate;
    For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.

(William Shakespeare)

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Monday, February 18th, 2008
10:27 pm - Der Seufzer
Ein Seufzer lief Schlittschuh auf nächtlichem Eis
und träumte von Liebe und Freude.
Es war an dem Stadtwall, und schneeweiß
glänzten die Stadtwallgebäude.

Der Seufzer dacht' an ein Maidelein
und blieb erglühend stehen.
Da schmolz die Eisbahn unter ihm ein -
und er sank - und war nimmer gesehen.

(Christian Morgenstern)

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Saturday, February 16th, 2008
12:01 am - Sonnet 88
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light
And place my merit in the eye of scorn,
Upon thy side against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous though thou art forsworn.
With mine own weakness being best acquainted,
Upon thy part I can set down a story
Of faults concealed wherein I am attainted,
That thou in losing me shall win much glory;
And I by this will be a gainer too;
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee,
The injuries that to myself I do,
Doing thee vantage, double vantage me.
    Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
    That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.

(William Shakespeare)

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Saturday, February 2nd, 2008
2:56 pm - Sonnet 87
Farewell - thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate.
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting,
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me to whom thou gav'st it else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgement making.
    Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter:
    In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.

(William Shakespeare)

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Friday, February 1st, 2008
11:05 pm - Sonnet 86
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse
Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
No, neither he nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid my verse astonished.
He nor that affable familiar ghost
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
As victors, of my silence cannot boast;
I was not sick of any fear from thence.
    But when your countenance filled up his line,
    Then lacked I matter, that enfeebled mine.

(William Shakespeare)

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Wednesday, January 30th, 2008
6:56 pm - Kennst du das auch?
Kennst du das auch, daß manchesmal
Inmitten einer lauten Lust,
Bei einem Fest, in einem frohen Saal,
Du plötzlich schweigen und hinweggehn mußt?

Dann legst du dich aufs Lager ohne Schlaf
Wie Einer, den ein plötzlich Herzweh traf;
Lust und Gelächter ist verstiebt wie Rauch,
Du weinst, weinst ohne Halt - Kennst du das auch?

(Hermann Hesse)

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6:52 pm - Sonnet 85
My tongue-tied muse in manners holds her still
While comments of your praise, richly compiled,
Reserve thy character with golden quill
And precious phrase by all the muses filed.
I think good thoughts whilst other write good words,
And like unlettered clerk still cry 'Amen'
To every hymn that able spirit affords
In polished form of well-refined pen.
Hearing you praised I say ''Tis so, 'tis true,'
And to the most of praise add something more;
But that is in my thought, whose love to you,
Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before.
    Then others for the breath of words respect,
    Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.

(William Shakespeare)

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