Gedichte

Thây hat auch viele wunderschöne und tiefgreifende Gedichte geschrieben.

 

Hier sind zwei meiner Lieblingsgedichte, die ich aber lieber auf englisch lasse, da ich es mir nicht zutraue, sie auf deutsch zu übersetzen.

Das zweite wurde auch in ein Lied verwandelt.

Vielen Dank für euer Verständnis. 

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Man is not the enemy

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Promise me,
promise me this day,
promise me now,
while the sun is overhead
exactly at the zenith,

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promise me:
Even as they
strike you down
with a mountain of hatred and violence;
even as they step on you and crush you
like a worm,
even as they dismember and disembowel you,
remember brother, remember:
man is not our enemy.

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The only thing worthy of you is compassion –
invincible, limitless, unconditional.
Hatred will never let you face
the beast in man.

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One day, when you face this beast alone
with your courage intact, your eyes kind,
untroubled
(even as no one sees them),
out of your smile
will bloom a flower.

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And those who love you
will behold you
across ten thousand worlds of birth and dying.

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Alone again,
I will go on with bent head,
knowing that love has become eternal.
On the long, rough road
the sun and moon will continue to shine.

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Quelle

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Please call me by my true names

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Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow —
even today I am still arriving.

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Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

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I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.

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The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.

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I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.

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I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.

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I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

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I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

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I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his “debt of blood” to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.

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My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

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Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

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Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.

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Quelle

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