Mendler's World/ Poetry/ Come

Poetry

Ohne Kompaß (only German)
Ohne Kompaß (only German)

Come
Once I saw an ocean,
eye-blue,
the beach bordered
by the darkness of
magical dreams.
The crescent rested
on the horizon,
moon-bowl of the south,
like a luminous boat.
Time has come.
The crickets of daylight are silent.
The sea-wind blows
the dust from our skin.
Come with me
into the temple of night.
Come with me
into a sea of music.

(Copyright Klaus Mendler 2000)

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The Pilot
Who on earth has procured this job to me?
For filthy money I shovel sand into the nothingness
- nothingness! and in the end myself will disappear there.
But the payment is good.
Suddenly the old pilot is here again.
I should say: his ghost, because not long ago
he crashed down on the ground in his machine,
and breathed his last in a fireball.
Sooner or later that was bound to happen,
so reckless were his aerobatics in the sky:
Always with maximum speed.
Always with maximum risk.
And only a sneer
about those on the ground.
Now he stands there as an angel
and looks a bit silly in this togs.
But he is still the same man and says:
"Come on! Indeed, this guys up there
want me to be their errand-boy
(therefore this stupid disguise),
but let us pinch an aeroplane,
surely there is one standig about somewhere here,
and then let's get wild again, baby!"
I ask him, if he wouldn't have
other obligations now, and
that he should be no dare-devil any longer.
Tell him that he had lived much too risky
and had to learn from his death
to be more cautious and considering
safety first.
He looks sadly in my face, and then
he bursts out laughing.

(Copyright Klaus Mendler 1989)

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Old Things
Once, in my early years,
I used to cling to things,
wanted to keep everything,
to crystallize memory.
But today -
I know an older man
who keeps on his living-room-shelf
a number of empty
Jack-Daniels-bottles:
in memory of his wild years,
mummies of youth.
Now every bottle that I empty warns:
"Beware!
Some day I'll be a mirror of your age!"
Today I open
an antique book,
find there a clover-leaf
four-fold and greenish grey,
better conserved than the man
to whom it brought good luck
more than a century ago.
Life doesn't crystallize:
it remains as sand in the crystal-glass
and runs
through.
For a long time petrified
under the sediments
of old things.
Come, fire!
Come in my world
and make the things dance!

(Copyright Klaus Mendler 2000)

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Der Brunnengräber
Der Brunnengräber spricht zu mir:
Vergiß die Stunden, die sich selber zählen!
Suche die Welt der Kinder vor dem Tor!
Geh hin zu denen, die im Dunkeln lachen
und lässig in der Sonne Tabak kauen.
Die Erde unterm Moos birgt satte Quellen,
die Kundige schon je zu finden wußten.
Wenn mir in meinem Leben was gefehlt,
so fand ich stets das Wasser, es zu lösen.
Denn wer die Tiefen einer Welt erkundet
versteht die Dinge, die er nie gekannt,
auch wenn die Klugen es ihm nicht gestatten,
daß er sich selbst dann "klug" und "weise" nennt.
Du findest in der Abendstille Lieder,
findest am Mittag manches reiche Kraut,
findest am Morgen deine Heimat wieder
und in der Nacht löst sich die tote Haut.

(Copyright Klaus Mendler 1992)
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                     Ohne Kompaß
               Ohne Kompaß in den Abend segeln,
               voll Vertrauen in den Sommerwind,
               Wolkenbilder raten wie als Kind,
               und ein Spiel erfinden ohne Regeln.
               Später, wenn der Duft der Nacht
               und der Tabakrauch sich mischen,
               zieht's dich zu den vollen Tischen
               und zum Freund, der mit dir lacht.

               (Copyright Klaus Mendler 2000)

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