The Incredible Mangoes

7.00 am 03/08/09

late night conversations with hamster on german poetry, the depths of love, the eyes of women. translations that i quickly could type. a mix of hers literally, and my understanding. who knows who these authors are and what they really meant. because poetry is ten fold, down to every word used. right?
as hamster says, these poems date back to the 17th century. everything changes... economics, politics, law... but love and art and music stay the same, for years and years and years the emotions are the same.
hamster this post is to you, the tequila, and how you made my heart sing tonight.


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on a december trail, in the first hour of midnight, i saw your image in the cold.
we are parting and you are waving goodbye.

and i know that nothing of your beauty or your presence is for me. you are just leaving, and nothing of this is for me.

i wish that i could be the one next to you, who is leaving with you, but nothing of this is made for me.

you had on a bright coat, and a bright shawl over your hair. and a very bright face, that was glowing because of the cold.

i found you again in this moment of separation.
very dark, is this craving of happiness.
with a soft voice, tenderness, shivering frosty air. you told me goodbye.

i found you again, within that one moment.

you are now with someone else, this vacant human with a popped collar in a train. who is she.it.they.z. waving at me through the window. what is this bitter mockery.

you are leaving but you are staying back, on waves of grey wind. with a hug and a kiss. and the smell of your skin,
the black and white of a snowy chessboard is printed over your face.

and i know, that nothing ever in life of this magnitude, is made for me. like nothing. can you believe it?

( karl krolow - poem for j.s. )

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of luck and happiness.

happiness always begins over the earth, but no one knows where it is.


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within her brown eyes

when she looks at me with those brown fucking eyes,
it rips open so many wounds in my chest
that will never heal.

the sadness within those eyes, in the way that they bore into mine. these wounds will never heal.

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so, when they knew each other for 8 years,
on a day, the love just dissapeared.
like a hat dissapears, and you dont know where it went.

and so they were sad, and they cheated.
and when they kissed it was empty.
and the eyes when they looked at each other were vacant, unsearching.

she cried and he stood next to her. all he knew to do.

at quarter past three together they sipped coffee; all they knew to do.
someone practiced piano in the room next door. silent, both. vacant.

in the evening they sat next to each other without saying a word, and they just didnt get it.

they were in love, and then they werent.


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birdie