Zeit Epos
Time Epic
Incessant murmuring,
gurgling, splashing -
the water rushes down
down to the sea -
where the marriage
with other rivers -
where its power
will be mighty,
when the wind - the sower -
whips the waters ceaselessly
against the beaches.
Bright jingling
of small stones
at the bottom of the water,
the debris,
the maelstrom,
moves slowly,
imperceptibly changing,
over the shallow
soft forms,
hollowing out further,
incessantly,
no stillness,
no standing,
always in motion,
always
the same river
summer and winter
full of glorious water,
never the same,
Every moment new
it passes by,
the many and the one.
In the flow of water,
in the flow of time,
is life,
at first barely perceptible -
with open eyes
we look
through the silver-green
shine.
Down in the dark waters
it is full of life,
For us
a closed world.
In the swaying beat of the fins
they pass through their world,
No rapids too swift,
no waterfall too high.
Here they play their game -
that we call love,
that ancient game
of life and death.
We speak of infinite love -
unaware of their own finitude,
they lay their fruit among the stones -
at the bottom.
Quite peacefully death makes its entrance,
where there was life,
Death and the river -
all one,
Constant coming and going.
Time -
what is time?
And yet,
new life is already growing
while the old dies.
Present and past,
everything becomes one -
everything flows.
A first crack
in the small round shell,
there a second,
everywhere, as far as the eye can see,
new young life.
Tiny little,
it slips out of the safety of the cave -
so young it already carries its end within itself -
without even suspecting it.
Soon there is not enough food
is not enough for the many,
Together they are drawn downstream.
They know their way,
No one has told them.
There is a drift, a flow, a swim,
Everybody knows the destination -
and have immediately forgotten it.
Unstoppable,
barely pausing for breath,
they are drawn out,
to where all the water gathers.
Past mouldy water,
propellers and the dull sound of engines
out
out to the open sea.
Here in the boundless freedom
a richly laid table awaits them -
but even this paradise knows
of eating and being eaten.
Prudence and attentiveness
ensure life.
Here the big mouth,
there the close-meshed net of the cutters,
danger lurks everywhere.
And yet,
it is a place to grow.
In the bright water
bizarre floes of ice float -
white blue-green the water sparkles,
in the sun's rays.
Silver arrows trace their course.
To live carefree is a dream -
there is a change -
there is no longer the right place here -
there's a sign that no one sees -
suddenly it's there -
the memory,
the knowledge of the roots,
Longing returns,
a trembling goes through the swarm.
The great journey
begins anew.
Everyone is driven back,
an inexplicable longing,
towards home,
Like they've never felt before.
They go uphill along the river,
Waterfall, what do you want?
They taste their destination,
yes here, this is the right path.
Incessant rushing,
gurgling, splashing -
hurriedly the water
down to the sea -
where the marriage
with other rivers -
where its power
will be mighty,
when the wind - the sower -
whips the waters ceaselessly
against the beaches.
Bright jingling
of small stones
at the bottom of the water,
the debris,
the maelstrom,
moves slowly,
imperceptibly changing,
over the shallow
soft forms,
hollowing out further,
incessantly,
no stillness,
no standing,
always in motion,
always
the same river
summer and winter
full of glorious water,
never the same,
Every moment new
it passes by,
the many and the one.
In the flow of water,
in the flow of time,
is life,
at first barely perceptible -
with open eyes
we look
through the silver-green
shine.
Down in the dark waters
is full of life
is for us
a closed world.
In the swaying beat of the fins
they pass through their world
no rapids too fast
no waterfall too high.
Here they play their game -
that we call love,
that ancient game
of life and death.
We speak of infinite love -
unaware of their own finitude,
they lay their fruit among the stones -
at the bottom.
Quite peacefully death enters
where there was still life,
Death and the river -
all one,
Constant coming and going.
Time -
what is time?
Gerd J. Wunderer
