Regina's Homepage "Dancing Colours" - Reading-Meadow - Poetry: Luck - moods 3

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My album of Poetry
Luck - moods (Part 3)

Homeless

When roots don't find a soil,
when the native place only sings in your heart,
But when it raises high up into the skies
the soul can get over all the pains of the past!

Then it can feel at home anywhere -
where the silvery sparks of the origin glimmer
and fall down right into your heart -
there the freedom can give you deep peace.

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Poetry: Luck

Poetry-Summary

My Angel in the Stone

You came to me,
in a moment of great joy.
I had seen you already some times before
- but now you came to visit me.

Your outer shape seems simple and plain,
Doch du ließest mich Dein Geheimnis schauen,
das Du in Dir trägst.
Du birgst das Wasser uralter Zeiten...

Du hast mich gerufen -
und ich nahm deine Einladung an.
Zaghaft und schüchtern zwar,
doch innerlich voller Freue über Dein Rufen.

Da zeigtest Du mir das Tor zu Deinen Tiefen:
ich stellte mich davor wie ein Kind vor dem Weihnachtsbaum
in der Erwartung, dass der Heiland
auf einer Himmelsleiter herabgestiegen kommt....

Da öffnete sich das große Rad,
wie die Öffnung einer Blende -
und ich durfte einen Augenblick
die Tiefen Deines blauen Ozeans schauen.

Unvergesslich ist das Gleissen der Sonne,
die ihre Strahlen durch das unendliche Meer
von mystischem Blau sandte,
bevor Du Deine Tore
wieder vor meinem Augen verschlossen hast.

Unvergesslich ist die Stille, der Frieden,
der mich in diesem Raum umpfing...

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Poetry: Luck

Poetry-Summary

Yearning - Summer Thunderstorms

Clouds wallow deeply over the steep hills
the smell of full meadows hangs heavily in the air.

Heavy mind merges itself with the rolling thunder
longing emotions wallow like impetuous heaps of clouds
break through - rain free.
Lightnings twitch - cut through unconscious spaces -
- illuminating the dark…

Versöhnliche Gefühle drängen herauf
und das Trippeln des Regens wird vertraulich,
verliert sein Gewicht auf der drückenden Brust.

reconsiliative feelings are urging up
and the tickering of the rain becomes confidential,
loses its weight on the oppressive chest.

Rain freely - my beloved soul -
- let everything flow from you …

assume the dark and the shadows
and then…

enjoy the sunshine with your delivered heart...

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Poetry: Luck

Poetry-Summary

Thanksgiving

again a cycle is coming to its end -
from the bloom to mature fruit…

from the seed to the head
the fruit stands fullly and soaked from the golden sun.
Flooded by the light of the sky - nature offers itself to us.

Now the ripe season has come,
and we thank God for the harvest we brought in,
the yield of our work.

In front of the altars in our churches
stand the baskets decorated with love,
full with fruits of the fields and gardens.

It's a reason to celebrate this benediction appreciably -
bringing down the cows from alpine pastures,
with harvest crowns and festive waggons,
with brass-band music, dancing and a late Thanksgiving evening.

Almost any food
is available today at any season.
Never humans had to give away
such a small part of their
income for the nutrition -
like they have to spend today.

At the moment of the celebration we become conscious,
that we can not take our daily bread for granted,
as we are used to do in our modern society of superfluity.

A view over the edge of Europe -
over the edges of our own plates,
outside into the world
shows this very clearly.
What can the most modern science and technology be useful for us
without the benediction of God
without our brothers: the rain, the wind and the sun…

Therefore the Thanksgiving is today
a recurring cause for us all,
to remind for the Natural Laws given to us by God
and to respect and honour our nature...
nevertheless it is our mother,
it's her bosom, at which we nourish ourselves.

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Poetry: Luck

Poetry-Summary

The Fires Of Solstice

Sonnwendfeuer The sun has the reached her highest point
she shines on the landscapes with her greatest power.
A festival of maturity - archaic symbols -
fruit and head stand fully and richly.

Rye weighs gently in the wind
and the laughing child plays in the garden.
The larch sings high over the fields,
spicy smell penetrates from the forests.

The whole year through it grows and prospers -
but this is now the turn of time.
The full green of the fields withers
and the leaves of the forest are dancing in the wind.

The farmers drive in sumptuous harvests
the days are extended with candle light.
But today we celebrate a great festivity
in honours of the sun, which lets us live.

At fires of solstice we merrily sing for the sun
thus some courageously jump through the flames.
it is, as we all know, age-old custom
the Celts also knew it long before.

Wheels of fire rolled glowing-red down the hills
nocturnal torch-light processions join the fires.
The May-Tree, that is dear and valuable to us,
was in some places threwn into the fires of solstice.

You can separate your old habit now from yourself
and written on papers throw it into the burning fire.
Let old evils disappear in the flames -
yesterday connected with today in love.

Cookies of Elder smell sweetly and fine
childrens eyes invite us to dance
today the fires of Johanni shine in the distance.

Now the quiet time begins.

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Poetry: Luck

Poetry-Summary