Herbst - Fall
Posted by Christoph
Herbstgedicht
Das Rauschen des Windes in goldenen Blättern,
die andern die fallen in tiefroten Lettern,
die Sonne die wärmend und doch tiefer steht,
erzählen Geschichten vom Leben, das geht.
Ein letztes Aufbäumen von Farbe und Licht,
schützt wie eine Maske des Winters Gesicht,
doch mitten in diesem so großen Verlust,
hör ich eine Stimme die ganz leise ruft:
"Ich geh' und komm' wieder, ich bleibe bei dir,
Den Frühling, seine Lieder, hörst du wieder von mir!"
Die Stimme sie spricht beruhigend zu mir,
sagt: "Ich geh' und komm' wieder, ich bleibe bei dir,
Den Frühling, seine Lieder, hörst du wieder von mir!"
Fall
This is a very bad and very quick translation of the poem I've done in German.
I apologize for the poor wording, it's more meant to make the original understood than anything else. I've been trying to come up with a good Fall poem in English though, so I might end up substituting one :)
The wind rustles through the big heaps of gold,
as others still fall, all colored red,
it's telling me stories of the new and the old,
the sun still shines, but all her warmth seems shed.
A final uprising of color and light,
before winter will turn this world into night,
but I hear in this madness a voice calling out,
lifting my spirit beyond every doubt:
"I leave just to come back, just you wait and see,
Spring and its' sing-alongs will come back with me."
The voice it is whisperin' so softly to me:
"I leave just to come back, just you wait and see,
Spring and its' sing-alongs will come back with me.."
Fall
This is a very bad and very quick translation of the poem I've done in German.
I apologize for the poor wording, it's more meant to make the original understood than anything else. I've been trying to come up with a good Fall poem in English though, so I might end up substituting one :)
The wind rustles through the big heaps of gold,
as others still fall, all colored red,
it's telling me stories of the new and the old,
the sun still shines, but all her warmth seems shed.
A final uprising of color and light,
before winter will turn this world into night,
but I hear in this madness a voice calling out,
lifting my spirit beyond every doubt:
"I leave just to come back, just you wait and see,
Spring and its' sing-alongs will come back with me."
The voice it is whisperin' so softly to me:
"I leave just to come back, just you wait and see,
Spring and its' sing-alongs will come back with me.."
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