Die Ohnmacht, die aus der Hoffnungslosigkeit hervorgeht, ist ebenso grausam wie die Hoffnung selbst.

Lu Hsün Shujen (1881 - 1936), auch Chou, Lu Ssün, Zhou Shuren, chinesischer Schriftsteller größter chinesischer Schriftsteller der Neuzeit, Professor, Essayist und Erzähler

Liebe Maike,

ich kann zu deinem gut gewählten Wort-Verlauf NICHTS hinzufügen.

Ich sage nur : Danke.

Und: So ist es.

Vielleicht noch die Frage: Wie lange kann man das AUS-HALTEN ?

Allerliebste Grüße und leichte Umarmung,

Uwe.

Liebe Maike,

ich verstehe DICH so sehr.

Auch meine Sehnsucht, nach Rosi, steigert sich ins Unermessliche.

Das Wort "BESSER" ist für mich ein "Unwort", seit dem 06.07.2018.

Weiterhin danke ich DIR für das Rosi-Kompliment.

Aber ich verrate DIR ein Geheimnis: Ihre Seele war 100x schöner !!

Auch DIR alles Liebe,

Uwe.

Liebe Maike,

JA !!!!

Danke.

Liebe Grüße,

Uwe.

No, I can't forget this evening
Or your face as you were leaving
But I guess that's just the way the story goes
You always smile but in your eyes your sorrow shows
Yes, it shows

No, I can't forget tomorrow
When I think of all my sorrow
When I had you there, but then I let you go
And now it's only fair that I should let you know
What you should know

I can't live if living is without you
I can't live, I can't give anymore
I can't live if living is without you
I can't give, I can't give anymore

Well, I can't forget this evening
Or your face as you were leaving
But I guess that's just the way the story goes
You always smile but in your eyes your sorrow shows
Yes, it shows

I can't live if living is without you
I can't live, I can't give anymore
I can't live if living is without you
I can't live, I can't give anymore
If living is without you

 
Cycles. We live in cycles.
Cycles and circles.
In a routine. But I don't mean the day routine
I mean the life routine.

The one where you cry.
The one where you laugh.
The one where you meet.
Where you meet places.
Where you meet people. Where you meet moments.

That's what I mean, a life routine.
Our life is a cycle.
A circle, where we live.
In a life, where we repeat events.
Where we meet again the same people.
But with different eyes. Where we find the same songs.
But with different rythm.
Where we wake up in a new day.
But with the same moon.

But our circle is not perfect. Our life is not a perfect cycle.
And we don't always walk at the same rhythm.
Sometimes we run.
Other times, we swim. And we sometimes drown.
Sometimes.
We try to fly.

The imperfection in the circle.
In our cycle.
The difference of rhythm.
The how thin. Or how thick, the circle is.
Makes us notice that life change.

That life is not always the same.
That we can live a whole life smilling
Or crying A life where at the beginning we are happy
But at the end, we die killed by our own selves.
A life where in a day, we can be in love.
And at the next day, our hearth is broken in peaces.

We dont pay attention to our cycle.
To our circle.

We exist on it, yes.
We do.
But we dont live.
We try to make it larger.
Or faster.

Some of us. We try to paint it.
Or to fill it with music
Or to tattoo it with poetry.

We try to make art.
Some of us.
We try to make art on our circle.
Our cycle.

Some of us.
We suffer.
Some of us.
We try to make the circle shorter.
We try to cut our circle.
To end our cycle.

In the pain.
Our cycle makes us live
Our circle makes us see.
In the pain.
Where we find more cycles.
And more circles.
We drown.
We fall.
We die.

Some of us.
We suffer.
Our cycle is a pain.
Our circle strangle us.
Like a rope.

Beginning, the way, and the end.
The three steps of our cycle.
We decide what kind of cycle to choose.
Some of us do.

Now, I paint.
I fly.
I try to let go.
I try to find my way.
I try to find my way in this circle.

I fly.
I write.
I paint.
I live.
Is this the end?
Am I just born?
What path do I choose?
What cycle?
What circle?

Am I alive?

Zyklen.

Wir leben in Zyklen.

Zyklen und Kreise.

In einer Routine.

Aber ich meine nicht den Tagesablauf

Ich meine die Lebensroutine.

Der, wo du weinst.

Der, wo du lachst.

Der, wo du dich triffst.

Wo man Orte trifft.

Wo man Leute trifft.

Wo Sie Momente treffen.

Das meine ich, eine Lebensroutine.

Unser Leben ist ein Kreislauf.

Ein Kreis, in dem wir leben.

In einem Leben, in dem wir Ereignisse wiederholen.

Wo wir wieder die gleichen Leute treffen.

Aber mit anderen Augen.

Wo wir die gleichen Lieder finden.

Aber mit anderem Rhythmus.

Wo wir an einem neuen Tag aufwachen.

Aber mit dem gleichen Mond.

Aber unser Kreis ist nicht perfekt.

Unser Leben ist kein perfekter Kreislauf.

Und wir laufen nicht immer im gleichen Rhythmus.

Manchmal rennen wir.

Ein anderes Mal schwimmen wir.

Und wir ertrinken manchmal.

Manchmal.

Wir versuchen zu fliegen.

Die Unvollkommenheit im Kreis.

In unserem Zyklus.

Der Unterschied im Rhythmus.

Die wie dünn.

Aber wie dick ist der Kreis.

Lässt uns merken, dass sich das Leben verändert.

Das Leben ist nicht immer dasselbe.

Dass wir ein Leben lang lachend leben können

Gold weint

Ein Leben, in dem wir am Anfang glücklich sind

Aber am Ende sterben wir von uns selbst getötet.

Ein Leben, in dem wir an einem Tag verliebt sein können.

Und am nächsten Tag ist unser Herd in Stücke zerbrochen.

Wir achten nicht auf unseren Zyklus.

Zu unserem Kreis.

Wir existieren darauf, ja.

Wir tun

Aber wir leben nicht.

Wir versuchen es größer zu machen.

Oder schneller.

Einige von uns.

Wir versuchen es zu malen.

Oder um es mit Musik zu füllen

Oder um es mit Gedichten zu tätowieren.

Wir versuchen Kunst zu machen.

Einige von uns.

Wir versuchen, Kunst in unserem Kreis zu machen.

Unser Zyklus.

Einige von uns.

Wir leiden

Einige von uns.

Wir versuchen den Kreis zu verkürzen.

Wir versuchen, unseren Kreis zu schneiden.

Um unseren Zyklus zu beenden.

Im Schmerz.

Unser Zyklus lässt uns leben

Unser Kreis lässt uns sehen.

Im Schmerz.

Wo wir mehr Zyklen finden.

Und noch mehr Kreise.

Wir ertrinken.

Wir fallen

Wir sterben

Einige von uns.

Wir leiden

Unser Zyklus ist ein Schmerz.

Unser Kreis erwürgt uns.

Wie ein Seil.

Anfang, Weg und Ende.

Die drei Schritte unseres Zyklus.

Wir entscheiden, welche Art von Fahrrad wir wählen.

Einige von uns tun es.

Jetzt male ich.

Ich fliege

Ich versuche loszulassen.

Ich versuche mich zurechtzufinden.

Ich versuche mich in diesem Kreis zurechtzufinden.

Ich fliege

Ich schreibe

Ich male

Ich lebe

Ist das das Ende?

Bin ich gerade geboren?

Welchen Weg wähle ich?

Welcher Zyklus?

Welcher Kreis?

Bin ich am leben

I know it's hard to tell how mixed up you feel
Hoping what you need is behind every door
Each time you get hurt, I don't want you to change
Because everyone has hopes, you're human after all
The feeling sometimes wishing you were someone else
Feeling as though you never belong
This feeling is not sadness, this feeling is not joy
I truly understand, please don't cry now
Please don't go, I want you to stay
I'm begging you, please, please don't leave here
I don't want you to hate for all the hurt that you feel
The world is just illusion trying to change you
Being like you are, well, this is something else
Who would comprehend? But some that do lay claim
Divine purpose blesses them, that's not what I believe
And it doesn't matter anyway
A part of your soul ties you to the next world
Or maybe to the last but I'm still not sure
But what I do know is to us the world is different
As we are to the world, I guess you would know that
Please don't go, I want you to stay
I'm begging you, please, please don't leave here
I don't want you to hate for all the hurt that you feel
The world is just illusion trying to change you
Please don't go, I want you to stay
I'm begging you, please, oh please don't leave here
I don't want you to change for all the hurt that you feel
This world is just illusion always trying to change you
Please don't go, I want you to stay
I'm begging you, please, please don't leave here
I don't want you to hate for all the hurt that you feel
This world is just illusion, trying to change you
Please don't go, I want you to stay
I'm begging you, please, oh please don't leave here
I don't want you to change for all the hurt that you feel

So far from who I was.
From who I love.
From who I want to be. So far from all our dreams.
From all our means.
From you here next to me. So far from seeing hope.
I stand out here alone.
Am I asking for too much? So far from being free.
Of the past that's haunting me.
The future I just can't touch. And if you take my hand,
Please pull me from the dark
And show me hope again. We'll run side by side.
No secrets left to hide.
Sheltered from the pain.

one went out at a bus stop in edinburgh

one went out in an english park

one went out in a nightclub when i was fifteen

little lights in my heart

one went out when i lied to my mother

said the cigarettes she found were not mine

one went out within me now i smoke like a chimney

its getting dark in this heart of mine

its getting dark in this heart of mine

we're born with millions of little lights shining in the dark

and they show us the way

one lights up

every time you feel love in your heart

one dies when it moves away

one went out in the backstreets of manchester

one went out in an airport in spain

one went out i've no doubt when i grew up and moved out

of the place where the boy used to play

one went out when uncle ben got his tumour

we used to fish and i fish no more

though he will not return

i know one still burns

on a fishing boat off the new jersey shore

on a fishing boat off the new jersey shore

we're born with millions of little lights shining in the dark

and they show us the way

one lights up

every time we feel love in our hearts

one dies when it moves away

we're born with millions of little lights shiny in our hearts

and they die along the way

till we're old and we're cold

and lying in the dark

cos they'll all burn out one day

they'll all burn out one day

they'll all burn out one day

they'll all burn out one day

 
Please, remember me

Don't forget my name

Leave a candle burning

Carry on my flame.

Will you sing my songs

When my voice no longer speaks?

Carry me on within your memories.

Remember me

Remember me.

Will I leave a trace

In a corner of your mind?,

Will you see my face

In the flowers that you find.

When I look a drop a friend

Within the endless sea,

Will you keep me save

In your heart and in your dreams?

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me.

Remember...me.

Do not weep about the night

Though your wings are broken

Do not weep about the dark

Though your songs are unspoken

Do not weep about the sun

Though it blinded your weary eyes

‘Cause it showed you to a different path

With beams from paradise

Do not weep my beautiful

Your candle is still burning

And I will make my loyal horse

Take your heavy burden

Do not weep my beautiful

'Cause darkness is but fleeting

And you will wake up to a sunlit day

Where sunlight is ever greeting

Each hum, each breath, each heartfelt sigh

Can smooth your melancholy

Deep inside I do believe

You'll find a peace so holy

Do not weep my beautiful

'Cause darkness is but fleeting

And you will wake up to a sunlit day

Where sunlight is ever greeting

Es ist das Herz, das immer eher als der Verstand sieht.

Thomas Carlyle (1795 - 1881), schottischer Philosoph, Historiker, Essayist, Geschichtsschreiber und sozialpolitischer Schriftsteller

Nach all den Nächten, die voll Sternen hingen

Nach all den Nächten, die voll Sternen hingen,
nun diese dumpfe, trübe, nasse Nacht,
als wär die Arbeit aller Zeit vollbracht
und niemals wieder Hoffnung auf Gelingen.

Wohin die Schritte weisen, da das Ziel
ertrank im nebeligen Grau der Wege?
Ich such nur noch, wo ich mich niederlege,
den stillen Platz. Verloren ist das Spiel.

Ich höre vieler Menschen Schritte tasten –
verirrte Menschen, einsam, müd und arm –
und keiner weiß, wie wohl ihm wär und warm,
wenn wir einander bei den Händen faßten.

Erich Mühsam (1878 - 1934