ARMER TROPF - POEM (GERMAN)

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Ich sitze hier, ich armer Tropf
mit megamässig rotem Kopf
ich kratze mich, die roten Stellen
gedenken nicht, sich abzuschwellen.


Ich gehe raus, um einzukaufen
nehm Hinterwege, mühsam schnaufen
das Selbst ist weg, der Spiegel Feind
ein Narr der ist, der da noch meint


Mensch sei nicht eitel, auf einmal
erscheinen Red' und Denk' banal
wenn man sich nicht mehr klar erkennt
von einer Creme zur andern rennt.


Doch dann des Weges kommt ein Mann
in fact, er geht nicht, er nicht kann
er rollt daher in seinem Stuhl
laute Musik oh Sündenpfuhl


Er rollt vorbei, ein Lächeln drauf
Ich frage mich, freut sich worauf
Welch Weichei bin ich doch, beschämt
bei Kleinigkeiten ich gegrämt


da denke ich, hey, gib nicht auf
andere sind viel schlechter drauf
ein Lächeln auf verhärmt Gesicht,
das haben SIE, warum ich nicht ?

 

I know that few of you understand German. But since I'm a little ill at the moment and damned to do NOTHING, I wrote this. It basically means: Even when you're sick, never forget that there are others that are WORSE off than you. Maybe some of you might understand it. If not, sorry for the inconvenience !

Comments

Stone-Eater Friedli Added Oct 2, 2017 - 3:48pm
I knew I won't get comments on that ;-) Where's TBH ? LOL
Lady Sekhmetnakt Added Oct 2, 2017 - 5:51pm
I do not know German, but there is Google Translate. Then again I don't think it knows German either by this example (the supposed English version of the last paragraph):
 
since I think hey, do not give 
others are much worse on it 
a smile on wormed face, 
that's why YOU did not?
Stone-Eater Friedli Added Oct 3, 2017 - 3:38am
Wow LOL. No good google translate....;) At least for poems...
opher goodwin Added Oct 3, 2017 - 9:40am
I'm sitting here,
I'm poor with a megamely red head
I scratch myself,
the red spots do not commemorate.
I go out to shop
take the hindways,
laboriously the self is gone,
the enemy of the mirror
a fool is the one who still means
Man be not vanity,
all at once Red 'and' Think '
appear trivial
if one is no longer clear from one cream to another.
But then the way comes a man in fact,
he does not go,
he can not
he rolls in his chair
loud music oh sinning
He rolls past,
a smile on it I wonder,
looking forward to what I'm so ashamed,
I'm ashamed at small things
I groused I think,
hey, do not give up
others are much worse
a smile on wrenched face,
THAT YOU HAVE I DO NOT?
 
Well I'm not sure google translate does it justice! We have so much more than so many people don't we?
opher goodwin Added Oct 3, 2017 - 9:41am
Get well soon Stone.
Stone-Eater Friedli Added Oct 3, 2017 - 10:02am
Opher
 
LOL Proof that google can't translate a poem, but there is a point in it - thanks :-)
opher goodwin Added Oct 3, 2017 - 6:36pm
SEF - Ha Ha - I thought it was amusing. Didn't altogether make sense but it kind of created a new surreal poem.
Stone-Eater Friedli Added Oct 4, 2017 - 6:18am
LOL Da-da-Dali :-)
Melinda Pillsbury-Foster Added Oct 14, 2017 - 7:46pm
Hope the afflicted parts are better soon, Stone!
Life brings thistles at times so I share this modest rhyme. 
 
57.
Thistles

Spring-fed suppled, barely grown
the thistles seldom show their thorns.
Waxing into yearful fruit
the tiny hooks rear up their shoots

Clasping, working, into flesh
into hair, in time locked quest
Thistles living out their lives
spreading promises and lies.

Promised beauty, joined with thought
Gravid need that can't be stopped

Thistles

Unthinking knowing, breeding on
into a future’s seeded lawn
From voids of past that saw the same
without the structure of the name

Thistles

Genus, kingdom, named and writ
the plant that nabs with time tried wit
Life insists that it continue
A war within the cusp of meadow

Thistles

Blended growing, poised in time
To render true their self-made kind

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