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Sonntag, 24. Februar 2013






White nights


No one here,
and the body says: whatever is said
is not to be said. But no one 
is a body as well, and what the body says
is heard by no one
but you.

Snowfall and night. The repetition
of a murder 
among the trees. The pen
moves across the earth: it no longer knows
what will happen, and the hand that holds it
has disappeared.

Nevertheless, it writes.
It writes: in the beginning,
among the trees, a body came walking
from the night. It writes:
the body's whiteness
is the color of earth. It is earth,
and the earth writes: everything
is the color of silence.

I am no longer here. I have never said
what you say
I have said. And yet, the body is a place
where nothing dies. And each night,
from the silence of the trees, you know
that my voice
comes walking toward you.

(Paul Auster)



Geh sorgsam mit dir um,
dich kann's nur einmal geben
und auch nur kurz -
man darf dich nicht verbrauchen
wie einen Rohstoff.
Du bist kein Produkt.
Entzieh dich der Statistik,
du bist wichtig.
Bewahre dich,
weiche der Härte aus,
verweigre dich
den Überflüssigkeiten.
Gib deine Antworten selbst,
stell selber deine Fragen,
gib acht auf dich,
dich gibt es nur einmal.

(Heinz Kahlau)