Poems 3

The dear is stronger than the time.
A minute jointly experiences
Lets thousand solitary hours forget!

Who its face of the sun zuwendet
Lets all shadows behind itself fall.

The memory is a paradise
Ends that one banished will not can.

The large dear is a little gift of the sky!

We are all angels with only a wing
and we only can fly
If we mutually embrace ourselves.

There are times, in which so many an in the life runs out of the oar
Through a mistake, a misfortune, through unforeseen.
But the prettiest in the life is
That it always a second chance gives.
One can begin always once again of ahead.
Mary Pickford said once:
"That what we understand under failure
the falling down do not be
separate the situation shelter!"

Sometimes torments us approaches of sadness
If the sun sinks.
On the other hand it raises us
To observe the sunrise.
Perhaps because simply the event is pleased us at
Or because unavoidable a new day begins.

There are things in the life that one can change simply no longer.
For example things that already happened are.
Even if they carry yet the scar therefrom, that is what passed
no longer existing
- Except in its memory, if it it awake call.
But also memories pale, if it themselves on that today
And on that, what lies before them.

What appears as a heavy test to us
Proves often to be a blessing.

Of the dear touches
Each becomes the poet.

How can forget´ I you!
Your I am every time.
I connected with you
With you in Freud and sorrow!


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