„Es hatte die Nacht ihre Wunden schon verschlossen –
Zukunftsweisende Gedichte“
Restless is the speaking hand
in the labyrinth of lost words.
Restless the heart when it drinks bitterness
from the jug of the night it must traverse.
Sensual dreams still kiss you,
seeking to preserve time for you with beguiling shadows,
that touch you and reach for you
with bare branches on the path into the clearing
that transforms what is heavy into what is light.
Just go forward!
It shall not harm your soul
if the tearing arms
of the dark wood wound you.
Just look ahead!
Already light enters among the trees
to redeem your mind
from suffering and wound and pain.
Only have courage and trust,
so that the one truth may carry you
into the resting innermost depth of the word Love
spoken from the heart
of your eternally merciful Father.
* * *
Breath of Your Love
It is not the tear your eye loses
when the naked body of the word asks for life
in the barren verses in which your hand goes astray,
when death carries the breath of your love.
Far from every hope are the births of these nights,
marked with the stars of your false euphoria—
here demons and the dark powers fight against you,
immerse the gaze of your longing in their blind hatred
and their agony.
Here, where the shadows of your soul cover your shame
and the angel of death of your earthly deeds
weighs delusion and sin, you are a prisoner of the bodies
that lick at these sins,
because here darkness carries the breath of your love.
Only the sword of heaven
can sever you from this bond
with the distress that questions your stillborn words—
the suffering of these children will name the luminous answer for you,
when God’s love once again carries your breath.
* * *
Song of Love
Song of the love that I know
and that I do not know,
that carries me in its womb,
me, unnamed one of grace,
that carries me into this heaven,
this heaven given as a gift,
that opened my night,
that kindled my stars,
that watered my lost heart
and washed it with the light
of imperishable dawn and the warmth
of a day of love that will never end.
Song of love that I write, that it writes
with the embrace of a best friend,
with the kind eyes of a Father-heart,
with the blood of a mother protecting her child,
with the thoughts of a creating God.
Thus this song was composed,
with a calm, clear, peaceful, loving hand,
overpowering the lashing swells
and waves of all the oceans of this Earth,
playing with the raging hurricanes
and storms of this unbridled world,
penetrating and clearing the mists
of the waters pressing toward heaven,
outshining the lightning and making silent
the thunder of the wrath-inflamed spirits of the air.
Thus arose this song of love,
so quiet, so peaceful, so tender.
Like the humility of a flute melody,
like the breath of a warmhearted word
that touches hearts in their depths,
that kindles their buried embers
and makes luminous the eyes
that are empty and uncertain, running after lost
dreams and hopes,
stumbling, falling, going blind.
This bread and this wine from the heavens,
this almost inaudible tone that forces itself upon no one
and yet always and for everyone
sings the melody of life.
This divine joy of existence
that reveals itself in the most sublime
colors and fragrances of the countless flowers and blossoms
of the loveliest meadows of God’s heart.
This eternal Word that shines
as the gently warming sun of an awakening spring
over all the heads of this fallen Earth.
Thus love sings its song,
thus once it sang the song of creation
and sings it now in all spaces
of time and transience.
And thus it will sing it for all eternity,
until it carries all its children in its womb
and gives them its heaven,
which will open their nights,
which will kindle their stars,
which will water their lost hearts
and wash them with the light
of imperishable dawn and the warmth
of a day of love that will never end.
* * *
The choir of night in radiant light
steps forth from the darkness,
singing of love with golden silence.
In heaven a dance of fire blazes;
truth will openly reveal itself,
proclaiming the end of the world’s splendor.
* * *
When Jesus Christ returns
and His spirit penetrates the restless Earth,
you will experience the truth of your being.
Live so that you are ready for it.
For death experiences life as judgment;
love alone blossoms before the face of eternity.
* * *
Like lightning came the sword
and struck in two the powerless center
of shadow and night.
The black-blowing curtain
of the vault tore and fell
down into the universe, and light flooded
and immersed the eye of the heart
in the vast spaces of infinity.
They were love.
* * *
There is a light in the heart
and the light gives the word
and the word is the light.
But the heart became flesh
and the flesh concealed the light
and darkness gathered around the word.
And the Word came
and opened the heart
and the darkness became light.
* * *
Moon Song
O sorrowful path through defenseless time,
struck by hatred and malice and envy.
Cruelly tormenting itself, sword in hand,
the human being stumbles through dried-out land,
climbing the steps of life without support
in deadly garb!
Thus I wrote in poetry, seeking truth and meaning,
to the God whose image I am.
Full of grace He commanded me
to behold the guilt of my destiny.
It hurled me from the highest point of arrogance
into deep pain, and humility and patience
gave birth in me to trust that, upon flowing tears,
quietly and softly led me inward.
There I sensed what love is
and light touched my heart with a bright ray
and let me glimpse eternity …
…free of all transience,
so near the fulfillment of purity,
I pondered being and non-being
in the light of the nocturnal moon.
Not naming the prophets and poets,
yet recognizing the sounds of the wisest words,
I perceived from afar a most lovely song,
bringing hearts to life, the urge
to follow the tones in darkest night.
Thus I bowed down
and joined in the heavenly songs,
to sing with all my strength,
to sing the songs of divine power.
Death has long ruled upon Earth,
since the beginning of time
it has brought great distress to humanity.
Who could restrain its evil activity,
as with diabolical skill it strides across this Earth,
as though the lord of darkness, accompanied by the underworld,
rode the pale horse to our ruin?!
And does not allow the brightness of day,
the view into the uncorrupted light of love,
O our true desire.
Thus the sound of light breathes into emptiness,
yet the world falls in the reel of heaviness
and swings its circle enveloped
by destruction and downfall,
the sure price of God-forsakenness.
Persistently the dead deny the day,
bewitched by transient glitter and appearance,
their senses intoxicated by musty wine;
night seduces them into a ruinous dance!
They torture the holy words
with mockery and scorn and indulge
in the deadly reward of despair!
O God, what has been done here!?
Look upon the brutal and cold,
the tyrants and rulers who hold sway,
unknowingly preparing for themselves the fate of damnation
of the coming blessed years!
You say Your mercy is great,
but can You and will You
still hold back the fleeing waters?!
Satan! Lord over falsehood and shame!
How much longer will you writhe in gestures,
enveloping the light in the form of lies,
while you drag the wandering souls
with brute force from hell
into your eternally dark caves!?
Remember the times henceforth,
for when the number is fulfilled
of the chosen servants, there remains no choice!
Thus here we sing our songs
to illuminate the darkness of night;
we sing it again and again,
the song of your ending power.
Interlude
The writing of lament has been made known
—for the flood threatens to drown the banks—
and drives the tides into herds,
which now direct the words of wise mouths into the open.
Meanwhile I console myself with the bitter pain of brooding,
consider presumption and struggle against fear,
yet it urges me, a wound-wedded fool,
to continue giving myself joy through sensuality.
So I ask: shine for me, O star of life;
my own striving seems in vain!
Immerse the moon in the brightest tones of your love;
the world needs the clear songs of night.
The tribulation of thoughts sharpens the light,
yet grave-silence, stonily sounding compulsion,
veils innocence’s melody, dear poem,
and still urges distress to weep gently and softly.
Meanwhile God’s words burn in conscience;
in His grace I am wrested from mortality,
even before the call of the recorded names!
Thus the time approaches to hold judgment.
The gate of heaven is open;
the messenger of truth looks forth
and will soon perform his office without shame.
The streams of faith echo the star’s call into purity,
pain of revelation, held by a form of light,
touches remembrance in the glow of longing.
O come alive, you spirits, driving forces,
unveil the unsuspected spheres of worlds!
O come alive, you angels, messengers of heaven,
move death finally to explain itself!
For soon the day separates itself from blood,
and night, washed with light,
kindles the holy glow of the heart.
The time of the dead does not grant heaven
earthly vitality,
which carefully guides uninitiated life
into God-willed wisdom.
It is the eternal light
that gives peace to human beings,
that nourishes words with loving voices
that sing God’s glory forevermore.
Thus I write them down
and sing your songs to the world,
O song in the night!
Moon song again and again;
soon it is accomplished!