Ergib Dich - ... oder ich schieße (German Edition)

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By using our site, you acknowledge that you have read and understand our Cookie Policy , Privacy Policy , and our Terms of Service. Careful, in some contexts you WILL be challenged to do so. Ich geb dir gleich Bier! Still, use that with extreme care when not familiar with it Takkat correctly points out that "them's fighting words" nowadays is mostly used in an ironic way. It's in a category with "smile when you say that, pardner! I wonder why you think you need to have this in German for your keynote presentation? Presumably you will be delivering your talk in English to an audience familiar with American colloquialisms.

You can supplement the auditory channel with body language and a mock-angry expression. Donning a ten-gallon hat would probably be overkill In the unlikely event that the conference organizers have budgeted for simultaneous interpreters, you can trust the interpreter to think of something that hits the right note. To be sure, if you can make the time to talk to the interpreters before your presentation, it's helpful if you alert them to your plans. So to sum up, don't worry about the translation. Be yourself and have a good time talking about your work.

And at the end you pull out the six-shooter and ask, Any Questions?! To what I have found out "Them's fightin' words" originated in the American Old Wild West where it often led to a real physical fist fight when spoken out after having heard something insulting. The meaning seems to have changed over time to a more ironical or familiar usage today. In situations, when a somewhat heated or even insulting debate was going on you may hear people say in response:. From discussions in comments we hear that a slang expression is wanted that puts a negative connotation to reputation or "Karma".

In this context it was discussed that we may say something like "Ansehen? Ich geb' Dir was zum Ansehen! As this may be correct and probably well understood, it is not very common and not really slang by the way. Why not use a very common, very rude, and quite offensive expression like:. When I took German in high school , our German teacher had a pet phrase that she would should when we would get out of line or cross with each other.

She would call us a gangster or villain. To my knowledge, there is no direct equivalent, if you meant to carry over all of the implications it has in English. One of the implications I get from this is, that the speaker to be a bit of a hick a person from rural USA. As this culture doesn't really exist in Germany, there are not a lot of colloquial references to it.

By clicking "Post Your Answer", you acknowledge that you have read our updated terms of service , privacy policy and cookie policy , and that your continued use of the website is subject to these policies. Questions Tags Users Badges Unanswered. Given the tone of my writings, I prefer slang expressions to formal ones.

Randall Farmer 5. I tried to look it up on the web and I think I get the idea but I am confused as to what fightin' is And then to whom does them refer I would still like to know these things: The slang phrase has many grammatical errors - and as such suggests an unsophisticated speaker.

It is likely he took offense at a comment that insulted his intelligence. A polite form of the expression would be "The words you spoke are an insult, sir! Dein Mann kommt nicht gut dabei weg. Und hinten am Hals der Speck! Und du denks bei dir so: Dann siehst du ihn in Freude und Zorn, Von oben und unten, von hinten und vorn Wir sind manchmal reizend, auf einer Feier Und den Rest des Tages ganz wie Herr Meyer.

Beurteil uns nie nach den besten Stunden. Aug', mein Aug', was sinkst du nieder? Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Er warb, wie Herrscher werben. Nicht mit Worten, und nicht mit Blicken. Da aber sank der blaue Mantel nieder. Dir o Weib zeig ich mich wahr: Die Frau entfloh voll Graun. Comment Pigeon Any time I happen to open my front door.

He recently took early retirement from his job as a teacher of English at Winchester College and moved to Ely with his partner, the poet Wendy Cope. Comment Chan fhaca mi aingeal no naomh, ach chuala mi fuaim na mara agus eilean mo chridhe na theis meadhan. Angel nor saint have I seen, but I have heard the roar of the Western sea, and the isle of my heart is in the midst of it.

Da macht ein Hauch mich von Verfall erzittern. Die Amsel klagt in den entlaubten Zweigen. Comment Herbstgedichte 2 Dies ist ein Herbsttag, wie ich keinen sah! Comment Discovered Seen you down at chu'ch las' night, Nevah min', Miss Lucy. You was sma't ez sma't could be, But you could n't hide f'om me. Ain't I got two eyes to see! Guess you thought you's awful keen; Evahthing you done, I seen; Seen him tek yo' ahm jes' so, When he got outside de do'-- Oh, I know dat man's yo' beau!

Say now, honey, wha'd he say? Nevah min', Miss Lucy! Keep yo' secrets--dat's yo' way Won't tell me an' I'm yo' pal! Paul Laurence Dunbar — Amerikanischer Schriftsteller. Er war einer der ersten schwarzen Dichter, die in den gesamten Vereinigten Staaten Anerkennung erlangten. To Christ Our Lord I caught this morning morning's minion, king- dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing In his ecstasy!

My heart in hiding Stirred for a bird,--the achieve of; the mastery of the thing! Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here Buckle! And the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier! No wonder of it: Thronfolger, -erbe, Herzog dapple: Schleier, Kopftuch to plod: Asche, Gluit to gall: Comment Sonnet d'automne Ils me disent, tes yeux, clairs comme le cristal: Je hais la passion et l'esprit me fait mal!

Je connais les engins de son vieil arsenal: Crime, horreur et folie! Charles Baudelaire — Comment Autumn Sonnet Your eyes like crystal ask me, clear and mute, "in me, strange lover, what do you admire? Roy Campbell — Autumn Sonnet They say to me, thy clear and crystal eyes: My heart and soul despise All save that antique brute-like faith of thine;. Sturm — Rainer Maria Rilke, gest. Comment Aus Faust 1. Teil Osterspaziergang [Faust sieht im Gebirge die Sonne untergehen. Was schein die Flur nur heut so leer? Ferdinand Avenarius — Sunflower Ah, sunflower, weary of time, Who countest the steps of the sun; Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the traveller's journey is done; Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale virgin shrouded in snow, Arise from their graves, and aspire Where my Sunflower wishes to go!

Comment A littel Weinachtsgedicht [aus urheberrechtl. Comment Das gilt sogar bis 70 Jahre nach seinem Tod ;-. Carl Busse - Comment Damit das Gedicht nicht ganz verloren geht, verlinke ich es mal: Februar in Linz Vadder Abraham Musik: September in Klagenfurt Nur mal so aus Interesse: Welches Urheberrecht gilt denn jetzt? Das des Autoren oder das des Musikers? Comment penguin, das hat doch niemand bestritten. Entschjuldigung, dass ich etwas gefragt habe.

Comment Aber gefragt hatte doch Chaostranslater, dessen Frage nach dem Vorrang des Urheberrechts ich allerdings nicht beantworten kann. Sonnet When as my minde exemed was from caire, Among the Nymphis my self I did repose: Where I gaue eare to one, who did prepaire Her sugred voice this sequele to disclose. And thow who wrytes in stately verse and prose, This glorious Kings immortall gloire display. Tell how he doeth in tender yearis essay Aboue his age with skill our arts to blaise. Tell how he doeth with gratitude repay The crowne he wan for his deserued praise.

Tell how of Ioue, of Mars, but more of God. The gloire and grace he hath proclaimed abrod. Comment The Visitor http: Am Abendweiher starben die Blumen, Ein erschrockener Amselruf. Vergebliche Hoffnung des Lebens. Bitte beachtet aber beim Webposting den Urheberschutz. Das Copyright gilt im allgemeinen noch 70 Jahre nach dem Tod des Autors. Comment Night Movement—New York http: Florida Road Workers http: Comment Eine kleine Lebenshilfe.

Wegen des Urheberrechts leider nur verlinkt. Maybe at last, being but a broken man, I must be satisfied with my heart, although Winter and summer till old age began My circus animals were all on show, Those stilted boys, that burnished chariot, Lion and woman and the Lord knows what. II What can I but enumerate old themes? First that sea-rider Oisin led by the nose Through three enchanted islands, allegorical dreams, Vain gaiety, vain battle, vain repose, Themes of the embittered heart, or so it seems, That might adorn old songs or courtly shows; But what cared I that set him on to ride, I, starved for the bosom of his faery bride?

And then a counter-truth filled out its play, 'The Countess Cathleen' was the name I gave it; She, pity-crazed, had given her soul away, But masterful Heaven had intetvened to save it. I thought my dear must her own soul destroy, So did fanaticism and hate enslave it, And this brought forth a dream and soon enough This dream itself had all my thought and love. And when the Fool and Blind Man stole the bread Cuchulain fought the ungovernable sea; Heart-mysteries there, and yet when all is said It was the dream itself enchanted me: Character isolated by a deed To engross the present and dominate memory.

III Those masterful images because complete Grew in pure mind, but out of what began?

A mound of refuse or the sweepings of a street, Old kettles, old bottles, and a broken can, Old iron, old bones, old rags, that raving slut Who keeps the till. Now that my ladder's gone, I must lie down where all the ladders start In the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart. William Butler Yeats — http: Comment Jetzt reifen schon die roten Berberitzen Jetzt reifen schon die roten Berberitzen, alternde Astern atmen schwach im Beet. Wer jetzt nicht reich ist, da der Sommer geht, wird immer warten und sich nie besitzen. Rainer Maria Rilke — Comment I am most lovely I am most lovely, fair beyond desire: My breasts are sweet, my hair is soft and bright, And every movement flows by instinct right: Full well I know my touch doth burn like fire, That my voice stings the sense like smitten lyre; I am the queen of sensuous delight; Past years are sealed with the signet of my might; And at my feet pale present kneels a buyer.

My beds are odorous with soft-shed scent, And strange moon flowers a tremulous twilight air Weave over all; and here, alone I sing My siren songs, until all souls are bent Within the subtle sweet melodious snare. God, making love, made me love's grievous sting. George Moore — Comment Taffy is a Welshman http: Alun Rees Former journalist, one of Wales's leading poets. No flower of her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them.

Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. When true hearts lie wither'd, And fond ones are flown, Oh! Thomas Moore — Die kannte ich noch nicht. Hier ist das Original. The Haunted Palace In the greenest of our valleys By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace-- Radiant palace--raised its head.

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In the monarch Thought's dominion It stood there! Never seraph spread a pinion Over fabric half so fair! Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow This--all this--was in the olden Time long ago , And every gentle air that dallied In that sweet day, Upon the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away. Wanderers in that happy valley, Through two luminous windows, saw Spirits moving musically To a lute's well-timed law. Round about a throne where, sitting, Porphyrogene! In state his glory well befitting, The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing Was the fair palace-door, Through which came, flowing, flowing, flowing, And sparkling everymore, A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty Was but to sing In voices of surpassing beauty The wit and wisdom of their king. But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate. Ah, let us mourn--for never morrow Shall dawn upon him desolate! And round about his house of glory That blushed and bloomed Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.

And travelers, now, within that valley Through the red-litten windows see Vast forms that move fantastically To a discordant melody, While, like a ghastly, rapid river, Through the pale door A hideous throng rush out forever And laugh--but smile no more. Edgar Allan Poe — Phantasus Heft 1 Nacht. Wie kalt, wie kalt! Da sagt der Landmann: Ihr Abendglocken lang und leise Gebt noch zum Ende frohen Mut.

Es ist der Liebe milde Zeit. Viel Stroh und Heu; Ein paar Gedichte sind auch dabei. Juli Magdalene, Margarethe Weinen gern allebeede. Feuer im Kamin; Nun singe mit Luthern: Hat sichs ausgeschneit, Wirst du Palmen schneiden. Comment Song-Day in Autumn When the autumn roses Are heavy with dew, Before the mist discloses The leaf's brown hue, You would, among the laughing hills Of yesterday Walk innocent in the daffodils, Coiffing up your auburn hair In a puritan fillet, a chaste white snare To catch and keep me with you there So far away.

When from the autumn roses Trickles the dew, When the blue mist uncloses And the sun looks through, You from those startled hills Come away, Out of the withering daffodils; Thoughtful, and half afraid, Plaiting a heavy, auburn braid And coiling it round the wise brows of a maid Who was scared in her play. When in the autumn roses Creeps a bee, And a trembling flower encloses His ecstasy, You from your lonely walk Turn away, And leaning to me like a flower on its stalk, Wait among the beeches For your late bee who beseeches To creep through your loosened hair till he reaches, Your heart of dismay.

Doch, ich will mein Bestes tun, Nach der Arbeit ist gut ruhn. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing — Vergieb der Sehnsucht Dieses Herzens, ich denke Roms. Comment Abendlicher Reigen 2. Lange schaut der Mond herein. Dann sprach noch weiter sie: Dich macht nicht Kranz noch Kleid Zu dem, was ich. Comment Der Radwechsel Bertolt Brecht — http: Joachim Ringelnatz — Agnes Miegel — Hinauf - hinaus der Mieter zog - Geht alles seinen Gang. Der Herbstwind nach dem Sommer weht - Geht alles seinen Gang. Geht alles seinen Gang - Wie lang? Comment The Crocus Beneath the sunny autumn sky, With gold leaves dropping round, We sought, my little friend and I, The consecrated ground, Where, calm beneath the holy cross, O'ershadowed by sweet skies, Sleeps tranquilly that youthful form, Those blue unclouded eyes.

Around the soft, green swelling mound We scooped the earth away, And buried deep the crocus-bulbs Against a coming day. In blue and yellow from its grave Springs up the crocus fair, And God shall raise those bright blue eyes, Those sunny waves of hair. Not for a fading summer's morn, Not for a fleeting hour, But for an endless age of bliss, Shall rise our heart's dear flower.

Harriet Beecher Stowe — Paul Gerhardt - 51 Autor mars 21 Aug 11 Comment Als man Raureif noch mit 'h' schrieb Comment Leisure What is this life if, full of care We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows. No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass, No time to see, in broad day light, Streams full of stars, like skies at night. No time to turn at beauty's glance And watch her feet, how they can dance. No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. William Henry Davies — Comment Fragment What is poetry? Is it a mosaic Of coloured stones which curiously are wrought Into a pattern? Rather glass that's taught By patient labor any hue to take And glowing with a sumptuous splendor, make Beauty a thing of awe; where sunbeams caught, Transmuted fall in sheafs of rainbows fraught With storied meaning for religion's sake.

Amy Lowell — Fragment Was ist Poesie? Ist sie ein Mosaik aus farbigen Steinen, die in ein ausgefallenes Muster verwoben sind? Wo man oft lange widerstand, Ein gutes Wort leicht Eingang fand. Johann Gottfried Herder Ob ich den Zwist entscheide? Wird noch die Frage seyn. Ich suche mich durch Beyde Im Stillen zu erfreu'n.

Friedrich von Hagedorn The Competition My girl and my wine resolved to disentwine. How can I stand such pressure? It's time now to define: In secret I shall treasure them both - and both be mine: She gives me greater pleasure, but oft'ner does the wine! Heinrich Heine — Entstanden um Comment Ein Epitaph auf den vortrefflichen dramatischen Poeten W.

Oder dass seine heiligen Reste seien versteckt Unter einer Pyramide, die sich zum Himmel hin reckt? Shakespeare What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones The labour of an age in piled stones? Or that his hallowed relics should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a live-long monument.

For whilst to th' shame of slow-endeavouring art Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving, Dodt make us marble with too much conceiving; And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done.

Francis William Bourdillon — British poet and translator. Then was loneliness to me Best and true society, But ah! Here all thy classic pleasures cease, Musing mild, and thoughtful peace; Here thou com'st in sullen mood, Not with thy fantastic brood Of magic shapes and visions airy Beckon'd from the land of Fairy: No poetic being here Strikes with airy sounds mine ear; No converse here to fancy cold With many a fleeting form I hold, Here all inelegant and rude Thy presence is, sweet Solitude.

Comment The Voice Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me, Saying that now you are not as you were When you had changed from the one who was all to me, But as at first, when our day was fair. Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then, Standing as when I drew near to the town Where you would wait for me: Or is it only the breeze in its listlessness Travelling across the wet mead to me here, You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness, Heard no more again far or near?

Thus I; faltering forward, Leaves around me falling, Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward, And the woman calling. Thomas Hardy — So reifen sie bei keiner Frau, so schimmernd aus dem Saum: Und dennoch bist du so allein wie nie und schaust mich kaum; das macht: Die Engel alle bangen so, lassen einander los: So kam ich und vollendete dir tausendeinen Traum.

Gott sah mich an; er blendete Du aber bist der Baum. Rainer Maria Rilke Aus: Das Buch der Bilder. Pleasant summer over And all the summer flowers, The red fire blazes, The grey smoke towers. Sing a song of seasons! Something bright in all!

Flowers in the summer, Fires in the fall! Fern ist nun der Sommer und der Blumenduft. Rauch steigt in die Luft. Lobt den Lauf des Jahres und den Wechsel auch! Blumen bringt der Sommer und der Herbst den Rauch! Clement's "You owe me five farthings", say the bells of St. Martin's "When will you pay me? Chip chop chip chop — The last man's dead. Into the moonlight, Whiter than snow, Waving so flower-like When the winds blow! Into the starlight, Rushing in spray, Happy at midnight, Happy by day! Ever in motion, Blithesome and cheery.

Still climbing heavenward, Never aweary Glad of all weathers, Still seeming best, Upward or downward, Motion thy rest;-- Full of a nature Nothing can tame, Changed every moment, Ever the same;-- Ceaseless aspiring, Ceaseless content, Darkness or sunshine Thy element;-- Glorious fountain! Let my heart be Fresh, changeful, constant, Upward, like thee!

James Russell Lowell — Comment May the blessing of the rain be on you— the soft sweet rain. May it fall upon your spirit so that all the little flowers may spring up, and shed their sweetness on the air. May the blessing of the great rains be on you, may they beat upon your spirit and wash it fair and clean, and leave there many a shining pool where the blue of heaven shines, and sometimes a star. Comment The Victor Dog. The last chord fades. The night is cold and fine. James Merrill — A writer of elegance and wit, highly adept at wordplay and puns, Merrill was a master of traditional poetic meter and form who also wrote a good deal of free and blank verse.

It is also, to my mind, an example of how W. Ode to Autumn Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness! Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run; To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers; And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cider-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours. Where are the songs of Spring?

Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, - While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing, and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Kern, Samenkern to overbrim: Kornkammer, Getreidespeicher to winnow: Aber kommen doch auch der segenbringenden Schwalben Immer einige noch, ehe der Sommer, ins Land. The poetry corner — contents. Zwei Rappen springen auf der Wiese. Der rote Ahorn rauscht. Dem Wanderer erscheint die kleine Schenke am Weg.

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Auf das Gesicht tropft Tau. Heinrich Albert - Little Anna of Tharau is the one I like best, she is my life, my riches and wealth. Little Anna von Tharau has once more turned her heart towards me in love and in pain. Little Anna von Tharau, my riches, my wealth, you are my soul, my own flesh and blood. If storms and foul weather should threaten us dire, our intent would still be to stand by each other. Sickenss, persecution, sadness and pain would tie fast the knots of love for us twain. Little Anna of Tharau, my riches, my wealth, you are my soul, my own flesh and blood.

Just as the palm tree will grow to full height once rain and storms have tempered its might, just so will our ardor grow tall and strong after suffering and sorrow have let it along. Little Anna of Thaurau, my riches, my wealth, you are my soul, my onw flesh and blood. If we had to part and you had to live where hardly is know the warmth sunshine can give, still would I seek you through forest and sea, nor irons nor foes could keep me from thee. Little Anna of Thaurau, my light and sunshine, my life enfolds yours, as yours enfolds mine. Bei Wikipedia habe ich gefunden, dass das Lied im deutschen Original noch weiter geht: Simon Dach - Niederdeutsch: Das Gedicht finde ich auch sehr schoen, eigentlich alles, was ich bisher aus dem 'Buch der Bilder' kenne.

Barthold Hinrich Brockes Sei stark, sei stark und schweige! Christian Morgenstern — I show you pretty things in vain-- You must be blind, Matilda Jane! I ask you riddles, tell you tales, But all our conversation fails. You never answer me again-- I fear you're dumb, Matilda Jane! Matilda darling, when I call, You never seem to hear at all. I shout with all my might and main-- But you're so deaf, Matilda Jane! Matilda Jane, you needn't mind, For, though you're deaf and dumb and blind, There's some one loves you, it is plain-- And that is me , Matilda Jane!

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson alias Lewis Carroll — Viele seiner Gedichte sind Naturgedichte, in denen die Landschaft Neuenglands beschrieben wird. With bolts of Bones, that fetter'd stands In Feet ; and manacled in Hands. Here blinded with an Eye ; and there Deaf with the drumming of an Ear. Tortur'd, besides each other part,1 In a vain Head, and double Heart. Body O who shall me deliver whole, From bonds of this Tyrannic Soul? Which, stretcht upright, impales me so, That mine own Precipice I go; And warms and moves this needless Frame: A Fever could but do the same.

And, wanting where its spight to try, Has made me live to let me dye. A Body that could never rest, Since this ill Spirit it possest. Soul What Magic could me thus confine Within anothers Grief to pine? Where whatsoever it complain, I feel, that cannot feel, the pain. And all my Care its self employes, That to preserve, which me destroys: Constrain'd not only to indure Diseases, but, whats worse, the Cure: And ready oft the Port to gain, Am Shipwrackt into Health again.

And then the Palsie Shakes of Fear. The Pestilence of Love does heat: Or Hatred's hidden Ulcer eat. Joy's chearful Madness does perplex: Or Sorrow's other Madness vex.

Which Knowledge forces me to know; And Memory will not foregoe. What but a Soul could have the wit To build me up for Sin so fit? So Architects do square and hew, Green Trees that in the Forest grew. Comment A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky A boat beneath a sunny sky, Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July — Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear, Pleased a simple tale to hear — Long has paled that sunny sky: Echoes fade and memories die: Autumn frosts have slain July. Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear, Eager eye and willing ear, Lovingly shall nestle near. In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: Ever drifting down the stream — Lingering in the golden dream — Life, what is it but a dream? Lewis Carroll — Now is russet Autumn here, Death and the grave and winter drear, And I must ponder here aloof While the rain is on the roof. Robert Louis Stevenson — Comment Autumn Movement http: Er wuchs in Illinois im Mittleren Westen auf. Und es leuchten Wald und Heide, dass man sicher glauben mag: Comment Autumn Song Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf How the heart feels a languid grief Laid on it for a covering, And how sleep seems a goodly thing In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

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And how the swift beat of the brain Falters because it is in vain, In Autumn at the fall of the leaf Knowest thou not? Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf How the soul feels like a dried sheaf Bound up at length for harvesting, And how death seems a comely thing In Autumn at the fall of the leaf? Bald wird es schnein. Wer das verlor, Was du verlorst, macht nirgends halt.

Friedrich Nietzsche Lone Shrill shriek the crows that to the town in whirls roam: Winter Crow Lone — by F. N — Translation by Walter Aue. Georg Trakl — http: Die gestundete Zeit http: Und ferne steht, vom Mantel schwarz umflossen, Die hohe Nacht auf schattigem Kothurne. Georg Heym — Hermann Hesse — http: Schreib sachlich und schreib dir die Finger krumm: Nenn nur zwei Namen, und es kommen in Haufen Leser und Leserinnen gelaufen.

Interessiert in Paris und in Bentschen Kurt Tucholsky — Hilda Doolittle — Nie wieder wird der Wind http: Zeigt sie zwei, - somit auch zehn; zeigt sie drei, - somit auch neun; und man braucht nur hinzusehn, um die Zeit nicht mehr zu scheun. Denn auf dieser Uhr von Korfen mit dem janushaften Lauf dazu ward sie so entworfen: Christian Morgenstern - Sobald der Schnee schmilzt, wird sich's finden.

Comment At Day-Close in November The ten hours' light is abating, And a late bird flies across, Where the pines, like waltzers waiting, Give their black heads a toss. Beech leaves, that yellow the noon-time, Float past like specks in the eye; I set every tree in my June time, And now they obscure the sky. And the children who ramble through here Conceive that there never has been A time when no tall trees grew here, A time when none will be seen. Ich wusste es nicht mehr so genau: Und nun ein kurzes Gedicht zu Halloween: Theme in Yellow I am a jack-o'-lantern With terrible teeth Da regt sich ein Grab und ein anderes dann: Doch endlich verlieret sich dieser und der, Schleicht eins nach dem andern gekleidet einher, Und husch!

Comment Ghosts of Dreams We are all of us dreamers of dreams, On visions our childhood is fed; And the heart of a child is unhaunted, it seems, By ghosts of dreams that are dead. From childhood to youth's but a span, And the years of our life are soon sped; But the youth is no longer a youth, but a man, When the first of his dreams is dead. He may live on by compact and plan When the fine bloom of living is shed, But God pity the little that's left of a man When most of his dreams are dead. Let him show a brave face if he can; Let him woo fame and fortune instead; Yet there's not much to do, but to bury a man When the last of his dreams is dead.

William Herbert Carruth — Comment Nun ja, mal was anderes Comment Und noch etwas Kurzes: Stillborn These poems do not live: Sylvia Plath — Am Es wurden einige Abschiedsbriefe gefunden sowie ein wahrscheinlicher Hilferuf an den Mieter unter ihr. Comment Immortality A toy which people cry for, And on their knees apply for, Dispute, contend and lie for, And if allowed Would be right proud Eternally to die for. Ambrose Bierce - Emanuel Geibel - Der Alte In meinem Keller selbst gehts um. Denk nur, sie saufen meinen Wein: This year the fields are trampled and brown, The hedges are broken and beaten down, And where the primroses used to grow Are little black crosses set in a row.

And the flower of hopes, and the flowers of dreams, The noble, fruitful, beautiful schemes, The tree of life with its fruit and bud, Are trampled down in the mud and the blood. The changing seasons will bring again The magic of Spring to our wood and plain: Though the Spring be so green as never was seen The crosses will still be black in the green. The God of battles shall judge the foe Who trampled our country and laid her low.

Comment In Flanders Fields In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. Juni wurde McCrae zum No. Das Feldlazarett, das nur aus Zelten bestand, hielt der rauen Witterung jedoch nicht lange stand, und so wurde das Hospital in eine alte Jesuitenschule in Boulogne umquartiert. Die wachsen rasch wieder nach. Frank Wedekind geboren , gestorben Comment Die Welt besteht aus Optimisten und Pessimisten. Letztlich liegen beide falsch. Williams' Komposition ist schlicht. Sie zeichnet ein Bild des Novembers. Nicht optimistisch, nicht pessimistisch. Approach of Winter The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together,.

Comment Noch etwas Ernstes, ein viel zitierter Klassiker der Moderne: Im Nebel Seltsam im Nebel zu wandern! A lonely bush, a lonely stone, No tree can see the other one, And one is all alone. Da kam ein Holzwurm gekrochen. Approach of Winter by W. Comment November Night Listen. With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees And fall. Adelaide Crapsey — Novembernacht http: Comment Was bleibt Ach, was bleibt?

Heinrich Seidel - Comment Autumn I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like Silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;— Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright With tangled gossamer that fell by night, Pearling his coronet of golden corn.

Where are the songs of Summer? Where are the merry birds? Where are the blooms of Summer? Where is the pride of Summer,—the green prime,— The many, many leaves all twinkling?

Where is the Dryad's immortality? The squirrel gloats on his accomplish'd hoard, The ants have brimm'd their garners with ripe grain, And honey bees have stored The sweets of Summer in their luscious cells; The swallows all have wing'd across the main; But here the Autumn melancholy dwells, And sighs her tearful spells Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain.

O go and sit with her, and be o'ershaded Under the languid downfall of her hair: She wears a coronal of flowers faded Upon her forehead, and a face of care;— There is enough of wither'd everywhere To make her bower,—and enough of gloom; There is enough of sadness to invite, If only for the rose that died, whose doom Is Beauty's,—she that with the living bloom Of conscious cheeks most beautifies the light: There is enough of sorrowing, and quite Enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear,— Enough of chilly droppings for her bowl; Enough of fear and shadowy despair, To frame her cloudy prison for the soul!

Thomas Hood — Englischer Schriftsteller und Humorist. Comment Ode an den Schlaf. Und lege Deine Krone aus Mohnblumen auf meine Brust. Ode to Sleep On this my pensive pillow, gentle Sleep! Descend, in all thy downy plumage drest: Wipe with thy wing these eyes that wake to weep, And place thy crown of poppies on my breast. O steep my senses in oblivion's balm, And sooth my throbbing pulse with lenient hand; This tempest of my boiling blood becalm! Despair grows mild at thy supreme command.

Nor would the dawning day my sorrows charm: Black midnight and the blaze of noon alike To me appear, while with uplifted arm Death stands prepar'd, but still delays, to strike. Federkleid, Gefieder to becalm: The Beatles Der Jahreszeit entsprechend hat sich hier ein gewisse Stimmung breit gemacht. Ja, ich habe wesentlich dazu beigetragen. Ich freue mich sehr auf einen Schwenk hin zu einem angriffs lustigen, witzigen und frechen Ton.

Aber nur kein Zwang dabei! Soweit ich sehen kann, ist Victorian Poetry nicht unbedingt die geeignete Epoche. Comment Claus, das ist nun mal so, denn: Ich steige hinein In zirka zwei Kubikmeter See. Wenn ich sage nein, sollte das meine Wahl sein, eine freie Entscheidung, wie ihr sie erlebt. Vielleicht bin ich ja sowieso einer von euch, einer wie ihr, und habe es nur nicht erkannt.

Sollte ich euch wissen lassen, wie sehr ihr mich nervt? Ist das der Level, den andere einfach wegstecken? Auf die Gefahr hin, dass alles kaputt geht. Aber es ist schon alles kaputt. Oder stelle ich mir das nur vor? Der Bauch sagt nein, der Kopf will die Gelegenheit wahrnehmen. Kann sein, dass ihr meine Gedanken lest, die gelegentlich abbrechen. Ich sehe, wie ich die Treppe heraufgehe. Da geht jemand die Treppe herauf.

Noch habt ihr mich nicht. Sollte das alles nur in meinem Kopf sein: Karl Kraus - Sturmnacht Das ist eine Nacht! Das Meer, es rauscht nicht mehr, es rollt.. Das ist eine Nacht! Da wird wohl mancher Mast zu spott Die Natur kennt keinen Gott in solcher Nacht. Comment Brother and Sister "Sister, sister, go to bed! Go and rest your weary head. I'd make you into mutton broth As easily as kill a moth" The sister raised her beaming eye And looked on him indignantly And sternly answered, "Only try! I wish to make an Irish stew. Never stew your sister. Gemeinde, Kirchengemeinde to chafe: Comment Aus einem befreundeten Faden, kontinental.

Theodor Fontane - Comment La Mer A white mist drifts across the shrouds, A wild moon in this wintry sky Gleams like an angry lion's eye Out of a mane of tawny clouds. The muffled steersman at the wheel Is but a shadow in the gloom; - And in the throbbing engine-room Leap the long rods of polished steel.

The shattered storm has left its trace Upon this huge and heaving dome, For the thin threads of yellow foam Float on the waves like ravelled lace.

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Oscar Wilde — From: Comment Entscheidung Entscheidungen fallen stumm. Was unsre Seelen sich lange verhehlt, Da ists uns aufgegangen. Ich las so tief in deinem Blick Beim Strahl vom Wetterleuchten: Hugo von Hofmannsthal — Comment Sally in our Alley http: Comment oopsy, diese Stimme Aber hier noch einmal gedruckt. Sally in Our Alley Of all the girls that are so smart There's none like pretty Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. There is no lady in the land Is half so sweet as Sally; She is the darling of my heart, Her father he makes cabbage-nets, And through the streets does cry 'em; Her mother she sells laces long To such as please to buy 'em: But sure such folks could ne'er beget So sweet a girl as Sally!

She is the darling of my heart, When she is by, I leave my work, I love her so sincerely; My master comes like any Turk, And bangs me most severely: But let him bang his bellyful, I'll bear it all for Sally; She is the darling of my heart, My master and the neighbors all Make game of me and Sally, And, but for her, I'd better be A slave and row a galley; But when my seven long years are out O then I'll marry Sally,-- O then we'll wed, and then we'll bed But not in our alley!

Henry Carey - Erschienen Laut Wikip. Und fort, wild wie ein Held zur Schlacht. Du gingst, ich stund und sah zur Erden Und sah dir nach mit nassem Blick. Es war getan fast eh gedacht. In meinen Adern welches Feuer! In meinem herzen welche Glut! Ich hofft es, ich verdient es nicht. Doch ach, schon mit der Morgensonne Verengt der Abschied mir das Herz:.

In deinem Auge welcher Schmerz! Ich ging, du standst und sahst zur Erden Und sahst mir nach mit nassem Blick: Comment Lied im Advent Immer ein Lichtlein mehr im Kranz, den wir gewunden, dass er leuchte uns so sehr durch die dunklen Stunden. Zwei und drei und dann vier! Rund um den Kranz welch ein Schimmer, und so leuchten auch wir, und so leuchtet das Zimmer.

Und so leuchtet die Welt langsam der Weihnacht entgegen. Comment Inhibited I could not pity your pain but I pitied the branches Losing what little the frost had left them to hold. I could not warm you with sorrow; I turned to the sparrows, Clustered like heavy brown blossoms puffed out by the cold. Comment Dear contributors and visitors, I am writing today just to give you an interim report on The poetry corner - Vol.

So who are the most frequently cited poets here? Carl Sandburg 3: Amy Lowell 3: Robert Louis Stevenson 3: Lewis Carroll The English pieces have been largely selected by myself, but it ain't necessarily so! Native speakers of English and poetry mavens from Germany are expressly encouraged to post some of their favorite English poems. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 7: Georg Trakl 4: Joachim Ringelnatz 4: Rainer Maria Rilke 4:

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