Jürgen Skupniewski-Fernandez

This year

This year

 

This year everything is different

The stars hang melancholy in the sky

The moon is silent, bent to crescent

And the earth writhes at her wounds

Where is a refuge for peace?

Before our eyes hangs a veil

Through which the light lost its power.

These are the shadows of black angels

That rise from cold hearts

Oh, star of the south

Oh, heaven's joys

This year you have become such a strange thing to me.

 

Father, let your stars fall into our laps

Let our sweet blood flow through our dreams

Which way shall we turn

When the moon sends its broken light

Give us your faith

That pain may turn from us

 

Silence is the night, your holy power

But your children are dying

Their hearts rest tiredly sweet

Beneath your feet.

 

Chill lies the forest

When the waves of war

Like arms of polyps engulf freedom

In the fire glow the dead are multiplying

 

This year has become so strange to me

So much God once streamed through that night

But hope suffocates in the roar

And longing became a snake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year

 

This year everything is different

The stars hang melancholy in the sky

The moon is silent, bent to crescent

And the earth writhes at her wounds

Where is a refuge for peace?

Before our eyes hangs a veil

Through which the light lost its power.

These are the shadows of black angels

That rise from cold hearts

Oh, star of the south

Oh, heaven's joys

This year you have become such a strange thing to me.

 

Father, let your stars fall into our laps

Let our sweet blood flow through our dreams

Which way shall we turn

When the moon sends its broken light

Give us your faith

That pain may turn from us

 

Silence is the night, your holy power

But your children are dying

Their hearts rest tiredly sweet

Beneath your feet.

 

Chill lies the forest

When the waves of war

Like arms of polyps engulf freedom

In the fire glow the dead are multiplying

 

This year has become so strange to me

So much God once streamed through that night

But hope suffocates in the roar

And longing became a snake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year

 

This year everything is different

The stars hang melancholy in the sky

The moon is silent, bent to crescent

And the earth writhes at her wounds

Where is a refuge for peace?

Before our eyes hangs a veil

Through which the light lost its power.

These are the shadows of black angels

That rise from cold hearts

Oh, star of the south

Oh, heaven's joys

This year you have become such a strange thing to me.

 

Father, let your stars fall into our laps

Let our sweet blood flow through our dreams

Which way shall we turn

When the moon sends its broken light

Give us your faith

That pain may turn from us

 

Silence is the night, your holy power

But your children are dying

Their hearts rest tiredly sweet

Beneath your feet.

 

Chill lies the forest

When the waves of war

Like arms of polyps engulf freedom

In the fire glow the dead are multiplying

 

This year has become so strange to me

So much God once streamed through that night

But hope suffocates in the roar

And longing became a snake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

v

This year

 

This year everything is different

The stars hang melancholy in the sky

The moon is silent, bent to crescent

And the earth writhes at her wounds

Where is a refuge for peace?

Before our eyes hangs a veil

Through which the light lost its power.

These are the shadows of black angels

That rise from cold hearts

Oh, star of the south

Oh, heaven's joys

This year you have become such a strange thing to me.

 

Father, let your stars fall into our laps

Let our sweet blood flow through our dreams

Which way shall we turn

When the moon sends its broken light

Give us your faith

That pain may turn from us

 

Silence is the night, your holy power

But your children are dying

Their hearts rest tiredly sweet

Beneath your feet.

 

Chill lies the forest

When the waves of war

Like arms of polyps engulf freedom

In the fire glow the dead are multiplying

 

This year has become so strange to me

So much God once streamed through that night

But hope suffocates in the roar

And longing became a snake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year

 

This year everything is different

The stars hang melancholy in the sky

The moon is silent, bent to crescent

And the earth writhes at her wounds

Where is a refuge for peace?

Before our eyes hangs a veil

Through which the light lost its power.

These are the shadows of black angels

That rise from cold hearts

Oh, star of the south

Oh, heaven's joys

This year you have become such a strange thing to me.

 

Father, let your stars fall into our laps

Let our sweet blood flow through our dreams

Which way shall we turn

When the moon sends its broken light

Give us your faith

That pain may turn from us

 

Silence is the night, your holy power

But your children are dying

Their hearts rest tiredly sweet

Beneath your feet.

 

Chill lies the forest

When the waves of war

Like arms of polyps engulf freedom

In the fire glow the dead are multiplying

 

This year has become so strange to me

So much God once streamed through that night

But hope suffocates in the roar

And longing became a snake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year

 

This year everything is different

The stars hang melancholy in the sky

The moon is silent, bent to crescent

And the earth writhes at her wounds

Where is a refuge for peace?

Before our eyes hangs a veil

Through which the light lost its power.

These are the shadows of black angels

That rise from cold hearts

Oh, star of the south

Oh, heaven's joys

This year you have become such a strange thing to me.

 

Father, let your stars fall into our laps

Let our sweet blood flow through our dreams

Which way shall we turn

When the moon sends its broken light

Give us your faith

That pain may turn from us

 

Silence is the night, your holy power

But your children are dying

Their hearts rest tiredly sweet

Beneath your feet.

 

Chill lies the forest

When the waves of war

Like arms of polyps engulf freedom

In the fire glow the dead are multiplying

 

This year has become so strange to me

So much God once streamed through that night

But hope suffocates in the roar

And longing became a snake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year

 

This year everything is different

The stars hang melancholy in the sky

The moon is silent, bent to crescent

And the earth writhes at her wounds

Where is a refuge for peace?

Before our eyes hangs a veil

Through which the light lost its power.

These are the shadows of black angels

That rise from cold hearts

Oh, star of the south

Oh, heaven's joys

This year you have become such a strange thing to me.

 

Father, let your stars fall into our laps

Let our sweet blood flow through our dreams

Which way shall we turn

When the moon sends its broken light

Give us your faith

That pain may turn from us

 

Silence is the night, your holy power

But your children are dying

Their hearts rest tiredly sweet

Beneath your feet.

 

Chill lies the forest

When the waves of war

Like arms of polyps engulf freedom

In the fire glow the dead are multiplying

 

This year has become so strange to me

So much God once streamed through that night

But hope suffocates in the roar

And longing became a snake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year

 

This year everything is different

The stars hang melancholy in the sky

The moon is silent, bent to crescent

And the earth writhes at her wounds

Where is a refuge for peace?

Before our eyes hangs a veil

Through which the light lost its power.

These are the shadows of black angels

That rise from cold hearts

Oh, star of the south

Oh, heaven's joys

This year you have become such a strange thing to me.

 

Father, let your stars fall into our laps

Let our sweet blood flow through our dreams

Which way shall we turn

When the moon sends its broken light

Give us your faith

That pain may turn from us

 

Silence is the night, your holy power

But your children are dying

Their hearts rest tiredly sweet

Beneath your feet.

 

Chill lies the forest

When the waves of war

Like arms of polyps engulf freedom

In the fire glow the dead are multiplying

 

This year has become so strange to me

So much God once streamed through that night

But hope suffocates in the roar

And longing became a snake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year

 

This year everything is different

The stars hang melancholy in the sky

The moon is silent, bent to crescent

And the earth writhes at her wounds

Where is a refuge for peace?

Before our eyes hangs a veil

Through which the light lost its power.

These are the shadows of black angels

That rise from cold hearts

Oh, star of the south

Oh, heaven's joys

This year you have become such a strange thing to me.

 

Father, let your stars fall into our laps

Let our sweet blood flow through our dreams

Which way shall we turn

When the moon sends its broken light

Give us your faith

That pain may turn from us

 

Silence is the night, your holy power

But your children are dying

Their hearts rest tiredly sweet

Beneath your feet.

 

Chill lies the forest

When the waves of war

Like arms of polyps engulf freedom

In the fire glow the dead are multiplying

 

This year has become so strange to me

So much God once streamed through that night

But hope suffocates in the roar

And longing became a snake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year

 

This year everything is different

The stars hang melancholy in the sky

The moon is silent, bent to crescent

And the earth writhes at her wounds

Where is a refuge for peace?

Before our eyes hangs a veil

Through which the light lost its power.

These are the shadows of black angels

That rise from cold hearts

Oh, star of the south

Oh, heaven's joys

This year you have become such a strange thing to me.

 

Father, let your stars fall into our laps

Let our sweet blood flow through our dreams

Which way shall we turn

When the moon sends its broken light

Give us your faith

That pain may turn from us

 

Silence is the night, your holy power

But your children are dying

Their hearts rest tiredly sweet

Beneath your feet.

 

Chill lies the forest

When the waves of war

Like arms of polyps engulf freedom

In the fire glow the dead are multiplying

 

This year has become so strange to me

So much God once streamed through that night

But hope suffocates in the roar

And longing became a snake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year everything is different

The stars hang melancholy in the sky

The moon is silent, bent to crescent

And the earth writhes at her wounds

Where is a refuge for peace?

Before our eyes hangs a veil

Through which the light lost its power.

These are the shadows of black angels

That rise from cold hearts

Oh, star of the south

Oh, heaven's joys

This year you have become such a strange thing to me.

 

Father, let your stars fall into our laps

Let our sweet blood flow through our dreams

Which way shall we turn

When the moon sends its broken light

Give us your faith

That pain may turn from us

 

Silence is the night, your holy power

But your children are dying

Their hearts rest tiredly sweet

Beneath your feet.

 

Chill lies the forest

When the waves of war

Like arms of polyps engulf freedom

In the fire glow the dead are multiplying

 

This year has become so strange to me

So much God once streamed through that night

But hope suffocates in the roar

And longing became a snake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Jürgen Skupniewski-Fernandez.
Published on e-Stories.org on 12/20/2022.

 

The author

 

Book by Jürgen Skupniewski-Fernandez:

cover

Emotionale Welten von Jürgen Skupniewski-Fernandez



In den Gedichten hat der Autor das lyrische "Ich" durch ein vorwiegendes lyrisches "Du" bzw. "Wir" ersetzt, was eine kollektive Nähe zum Geschehenen hervorruft.
Die sehr eindrücklichen Beschreibungen leben von den vielen Metaphern und Vergleichen.
Eine klare und leicht verständliche Sprache sowie wohlgeformte Reime ermöglichen dem Leser einen guten Zugang zu den Gedichten.
Etwas für Lyrik-Liebhaber und jene, die gerne über das Leben philosophieren. Eine kleine poetische Reise, die den Leser zum Verweilen und zum Nachdenken über den Sinn des Lebens einlädt.

Möchtest Du Dein eigenes Buch hier vorstellen?
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