Andreas Hoeft

Andreas Hoeft

* 22.10.1954
† 24.11.2020 in Bonn-Bad Godesberg
Erstellt von General-Anzeiger Bonn
Angelegt am 26.11.2020
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Neueste Einträge (32)

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vom 24.11.2022



Entzündet am 05.07.2022 um 11:50 Uhr

What too happy to live
What too shy to give sound,
What too lovely to arise
what was born to perish,

What the moons never offer
roses of withered blossoms,
Tears then from young sorrow
And a sound of lost joy.

You know it, everyone who dies there
And those who part forever
They must, even if it were to their ruin,
Admit the truth without hesitation.

So I put it in your hands
Whatever moves my heart;
It's the last flower donation
Laid on a beloved grave.

Because I don't like to steer to the country
And looking backwards often to the city,
Everything seems magical to me,
As if in a romantic, fairy robe.

It's true, even now on the brink of perdition
Is this city a miracle, a poem.
Only in the relentless story
How clings to the downfall of shame!

Completely without sword blow, completely fear to rob,
Cowardly wrestled these old lords of the sea
Begging in the dust before a young man.

And if the palaces sink into the waves,
The idols in the glow of the fire,
The honor of the name remains the highest.

The trees stop blooming
My darling wants to go abroad;
My darling, he spoke a bitter word:
You stay here now, but I have to go.

Farewell, my darling, I remain true to you,
Wherever you are, wherever I am.
in rain and in sunshine,
As long as I live, I will remember you.

As long as I live I love you
And if I die, pray for me
And if you come to my grave
So think that I loved you

The flower breaks the breath of the north wind,
The pain in my heart eats away;
Whether your misery is brighter too
I know you're miserable.

My heart that beats hot for you
Hides a treasure of pure gold;
You could have lifted him
But you didn't want it.

We could both be happy;
You know it well and don't want it.
O may you never regret it!
Farewell! this is your last poem!



Entzündet am 29.06.2022 um 12:56 Uhr

Nemo quaerit, si fas est dicere vale
Placuit quid majus nobis
Nemo cogitationes nostras et memoriam auferre vult
Quodque diu tecum adhuc fuit.
Nubes obscurae
et tristitia
Nubes obscurae
et lacrimis
Nubes obscurae
et vale
Et stellam tuam
unum in memoria
semper lit.
Nubes obscurae
et tristitia
Sed ego
ducet te
in corde
Quo ego vado
et ite
Duo angeli comitantur te
ad magnum tentorium nostrum astra.
Ibi requiescet in omni tempore
Donec iterum conveniant.



Entzündet am 29.05.2022 um 17:11 Uhr

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

Mary Elizabeth Frye, 1905�



Entzündet am 14.04.2022 um 22:49 Uhr

Oktaven taumeln Echo nach durch graue Jahre.
Hochaufgetürmte Tage stürzen ein.
Dein will ich sein -
Im Grabe wachsen meine gelben Haare
Und in Holunderbäumen leben fremde Völker
Ein blasser Vorhang raunt von einem Mord
Zwei Augen irren ruhelos durchs Zimmer
Gepenster gehen um beim Küchenbord.
Und kleine Tannen sind verstorbene Kinder
Uralte Eichen sind die Seelen müder Greise
Die flüstern die Geschichte des verfehlten Lebens.
Der Klintekongensee singt eine alte Weise.
Ich war nicht vor dem bösen Blick gefeit
Da krochen Neger aus der Wasserkanne,
Das bunte Bild im Märchenbuch, die rote Hanne
Hat einst verzaubert mich für alle Ewigkeit

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