:: bachelor's notepad. ::

:: Tuesday, March 27, 2007 ::

Memories of Marie A. (translated from German)

Bertolt Brecht

1
On that day in the blue moon Septembers
Quietly under a young plum tree
There I held it, the quiet bleach love
In my arm like a holden dream.
And over us in the beautiful summer sky
Was a cloud, which I saw for a long time
It was very white and tremendously above
And never there as I looked up, was her.

2
For that day are many, many moons
Swum quietly down and past
The plum trees are probably knocked off
And do you ask me, what with the love is?
Thus say I to you: I cannot remember.
And nevertheless, certainly, I know already, what you mean
But, I know its face really never
I know only more: I kissed it that once.

3
And also the kiss, I haett ' it long forgotten
If the cloud there not been more waer
White I still and become I always know
It was very white and came from the top.
The plum trees bluehn perhaps still
And that woman has now perhaps the sieved child
But that cloud flowered only minute
And as I looked up, shrank her already in the wind.

(Bertolt break)

:: kiathy. 2:46 pm [+] ::
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clara and the cracks. we got quite a cool stage for a first gig huh.

:: kiathy. 6:15 pm [+] ::
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hahaha.

:: kiathy. 2:13 am [+] ::
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i realised polarization in my life: either you love me or you hate me.

:: kiathy. 2:56 pm [+] ::
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how i miss those days when you still wore uniforms to school, did silly cheers, thought that the o and a levels were difficult, and only had to do homework and study for exams to make it to the next stage.

with the next stage being the rat race, studying and doing homework aren't quite enough.

:: kiathy. 2:51 pm [+] ::
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