Marion Hinz

 

 

(Germany)

 

 

 
Little Dove III Do not be silent little dove tell me what you see at your flight above the earth do not be silent do not be quiet tell me what touches your heart what seizes your soul tell me about lovers whose eyes hands heart keep touching each other who even feel in the distance nearby whom nothing can ever separate even not in the greatest distance tell me about a lover who keeps me knows me carries me whose certainty lifts me up across all uncertainty whose confidence is more powerful than all the powerlessness of the world so that I can bed myself down in your soft plumage hidden safe above all wrongs in the world.

 

 

 

Fly little dove Fly, fly little dove flee from the cold in the deep valleys in the shade of trees on the tops of mountains flee from the wrathful wind. Fly, fly little dove flee from loud people from frail conditions from broken dreams from baseless nights flee from the silent scream. Fly, fly little dove swing up from the hem of Earth fly far and high

fly over the ocean of houses flee from the instability flee from the forever same. Fly, fly little dove across streams rivers lakes oceans across the gray line into the middle of the unknown into the midst of eternity flee little dove and fly.

 

 

 

Realm of shades

 

Shadows play with

words of wisdom

here and now

here and there

call and entice

from far away

strange shores

 

Play in desert sand

play in breaking waves

misleading you with great presence of mind

embrace themselves silently to your breast

breathless from

nothing but happiness

 

Fellows of the night

fellows from the past

shadows from now.

 

 

 

Fear

 

To fear the fear for the fear for

the strangeness of the strange of strangers

the wild passion of a wild person in the wilderness

the sadness of a sad one living in a sorry state

the power of most powerful people in power

the powerlessness of the powerless without power

the lifelessness of the livings in life

the lack of loving between lovers in love

the fragility of fragile people in fragility

fear for the fear.

 

 

 

At the same time

 

In the present

all things happen

at the same time

as everyone knows.

A train follows its own path.

The grass trembles on the side of the road

flowers bow their heads in the wind

a child recognizes it is no longer a child

a mother forgives her daughter

a daughter cries over a man

a beloved one dreams of everlasting love

a whore hangs herself at home

a dragonfly flutters in the air

a cuckoo calls in the forest

a man sees red

a woman bears guilt

a grandmother folds her hands

an old man bows his head

children play around the well

women carry jugs to the water.

 

Here shivers a cold night

there shimmers a hot day

here a person freezes to death

there many people die of thirst

here a human being drowns in the flood

there people run out into the street.

 

They fled over the water

to get to any other country

to a land of milk and honey

and if they have not died

so they may be still living today.

 

 

 

A weekend

 

The weekend came along quite normally.

I saw it coming from my window.

it approached in the sunshine.

It seemed to become nice and cheerful.

The weekend – however it was still Friday.

 

The last week had been okay.

Everything well wrapped up without a big fuss.

Some more important and a lot of insignificant stuff done.

Then Haiyan, the storm bird came

Made a mess of our plans.

 

Swept over the Philippines with more than 300 kmh.

The strongest typhoon that ever hit the country.

They talk of 3 dead. At first. Then of 100.

Then of 1.000. Finally they talk of even more.

They talk of approximately 620.000 homeless.

They talk of almost 10.000.000 affected

 

They talk of Tacloban. Flooded.

220.000 inhabitants.

About the capital of the island Leyte.

Flattened.

Chaos. Hunger. Desperation. Violence.

Corpses. Smell of putrefaction. But

also a lot of generous help and magical birth.

 

And here: Four German martyrs are

dug out of the sea of silence.

Now their memorial is long-lasting.

First edition to the Lohengrin prelude

is discovered. With all voices written down. A treasure.

 

Carneval! The fools storm city hall.

The Winter Olympics in 2022

not in Munich not in Germany.

A 48-year-old man with 3.14

blood alcohol is found driving in traffic.

 

That’s news in the Sunday paper.

The weekend is almost over.

 

 

 

Remembrance Roll the stone

of remembrance from your heart lower it into the

deepest waters no witness far and wide only the heaven rumbles sends flash and thunder down and you fall asleep nestled close

to the hemline

of the earth

in the glow of the moon.

 

 

 

Sleep Cover my fault with black linen want to sew me a sail for my dreams want to ride into the dark sky to greet the moon and the stars and the light of day on my long journey when my ship gently carries me over into this country promises so much to be bright and inclined and to offer beauty the sun kisses me awake my dark sail has become clear I never want to go back.

 

 

 

Translations by: Joe Turpin

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

____________________________________________

 

 

 

All in all, it’s the whole thing

 

Longing is a part of my life. And what would I be without my thoughts, in whatever direction they might wander? Peace still belongs to my German daily life. And progress as well, which gets ever faster, which precedes us, to which, as fast as we are, we always lag behind, by Devil’s foot. Only sleep covers everything. Fortunately? Sleep creates dreams, in which even that can happen, which does not happen in daily life. Sleep, dreams, memories – they belong to our life, to me, are parts of the whole that I am. Just as love belongs to it. What would we be, what would I be without them? But even love doesn’t always have a chance. Then I’m afraid. Then I fear all injustice that happens in the world, in regions that are still far from my home, could be here, could also happen at the same time here, could destroy my life’s dream of peace here and there and everywhere. In such moments I send my little dove on it’s way, my dove of peace, who is not silent, who reports and informs me, who gives me calm in chaos. My little dove, in whose cloak of feathers I can hide myself, until I have once again mastered my anxieties and worries, my breathlessness and powerlessness, my sorrow and solicitude. Until, after a dark night, I can once again rise up on a bright day against all the adversities of life, love and live again and believe in the good of man. Every day anew. So as there is after each day again one night and after each night again a new day.

 

 

Homepage:  www.marion-hinz.de.

 

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