Ruhe. Der Tag vergeht
Die Zeit aber nicht
Dein Sehnen selber dreht
Für dich das Licht
Auch in schwarzer Nacht
Weht dein Wandern weiter
Die Mitternachtsonne lacht
Und wird dir Leiter
Bis ein neues Verlangen
Dich schwindlig macht
Neues anfangen
Denn Alt-Es ist vollbracht
Die Zeit dreht den Suchenden
Richtung neuem Heim
Doch wird alles sich enden
Trotzdem im alten Reim.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
When your friends frown at you, as you wonder what you have done wrong, remember that frowning can be a façade with which the supreme virtue in you masks its beauty, because of your envy or its love.
And when your friends smile, as you endeavour to smile along, remember too that smiling is the most convenient façade behind which the supreme vice in you can hide itself and remain undetected, unchecked.
And tears, even tears – our most sacred tears – cannot be trusted. For save when you cry to yourself alone, you betray. Friend, when you cry to me, you betray me, so long as you know why you are crying. And if you do not possess this knowledge, then it is your soul that betrays you. And you still betray me.
And, finally, there is Seeming, ah, Seeming… the supreme garment of all, which I weaved my very own self. Nothing is as dear to me as my Seeming, for it ensures that when I am with you I can feel at home without, at the same time, ceasing to feel completely at home with myself. Yes, Seeming is indeed the supreme garment, almost tending towards nature. Almost. If only it did not leave me divided amongst myselves – I cannot stand!
Façades. People hide behind façades, of ignorance or wisdom, of inarticulateness or eloquence, of bravery or cowardice. Human hides innocence and nakedness behind façades, for fear of being shunned by fellow human for being mad or simply different. We hide behind façades of which lying is barely even one. And the worst part of it all is that we have forgotten, forgotten going into hiding, forgotten who, forgotten what, we really are – and, in our gruesome attempt to belong, have finally become the façades behind which we die.
Think of a worse hell, and I’ll give you a clap.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
There is a lightness of words
That, when it leans on you
Your heaviest resistance disintegrates
And you learn a new
Meaning of the word Gravity.
For the lighter wrestles the heavier
To the ground
The whisper beats the shout
To the sound
The rigid mind of intellect
Remains earth-bound
While the childlike heart of intuition
Freedom has found.
Like a flame dancing on water
Spirit is light as dove
And heavy as conscience.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Ich verschwinde manchmal
In meine schwimmende Reflektion
Mein ungewisses Mahnmal
Aufs Neue lallend Denk mal
Am Wasser neige ich zur Konfession.
Ich bin dann fremder Gast
In meiner eigenen Seele
Andere Passanten ahnen fast
Den schweren Strom der Last
Der gewürgten Beichte in meiner Kehle.
Aufschauend durch die Flusswellen dieses Gewichtes
Empfange ich die gebrochenen Strahlen des Lichtes
Empfange ich die gebrochenen Strahlen des Lichtes.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Beautiful is the song of siring
In haunts of wanting
In gaunt bellies of starving need
My roots will ravish your burning greed
And then turn again, midnight
And accept the other side of the sun
Thrust out the other cheek
And if it hurts, let the pain make you weak
The weak will inherit the night
And the strong will be on their knees
Begging for more of yesterday
No to power, yes to play.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
You’ll never be a better man
Than the boy you once were
So, when you lose your way
The answer you seek is not far:
Remember the dream you once had
Between child- and adulthood
When the boy you once were
Had just awakened from his dream
And the man you now are
Had not yet forgotten that dream.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Those trees
Changing leaves
Changing their minds
Turning times
Redressing time
But there’s an hour when
Fear leaves
Turned red
Fall yellow, weak, finished, all said and dead.
Then you change your mind too
After the thoughts are fallen
Your fearlessness stands naked hard in the bolding cold
Do you fear your own freedom, your own self-dependence?
Are you afraid of your own courage?
November strips the brave of their cowardice
And the cowardly of their bravery.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Die Liebe meint es gut mit mir
Immer, wenn ich den Weg in mein Herz hinein verliere
Bricht sie mir offen eine neue Tür
Lieber Schmerz als Brennholz, bevor ich zu Tode erfriere
Und wenn ich drohe, aufzugeben
Erfüllt sie mich mit Sehnsucht nach Wiederdaheimesein
Und wenn es mir schwerfällt, zu vergeben
Weicht sie mir das steife Herz mit süßem Tränenwein.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Alles alles
Normales
Nominales
Alles halt
Mit schwarzen Streichelstreifen schuhsohlengeschmuste helle sanftbraune Stuhlbeine
Weich gesessene Ledersessel
Denn der Herbst schleicht da draußen um das Haus herum
Durch den Nebel
Tritt mir Lautlos entgegen
Ich übertöne es mit abstrakter Automusik
Die Reifen flüstern strassestrasse
Molltöne öffnen mir ein Seitenohr
Bahnstreik. Frühschicht. Mal wieder Autokuscheln mit Schal
Mal wieder gemeinsam reisen mit
Umrissen und Lautlos und Musik lau in Hinterstund –
Bis ich aus dem Nebel hervortrete
Alles normal. Guten Morgen, Herr Kollege.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Wait for the knocking of the carpenter
For it won’t be long
Lovingly building that cradle, soft of hay
It will be rocked by a virgin’s song
But a prouder man, a truer man
Will watch over the smile of a radiant star
– Then, lonely earth spirit, light up your heart
For Christmas is no longer far.
And if you think deeper, you will realise
He did not come to die, but to open up our eyes
To Life, to love, to a new reason to strive.
Breathe again, wilted human flowers – and rise…
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 