ZEITGEISTLYRIK (Satis Shroff, Freiburg-Kappel)

(c)Flowers from Kappel and my garden and Titisee, a glacial lake in the Black Forest

Sleep, my Lovely (Satis Shroff)

I found you

The way I lost you,

Like a wandering cloud,

On a full moon night.

You were chatting animatedly

With another female medical student.

I saw you,

You saw me.

Was mesmerised

By the sight of you.

You kept on talking

Looked again

Then you smiled,

A broad, sympathetic smile.

Came to me

Said, ‘Hallo!’

With your infectious smile.

We went to a student bar,

Drank a few glasses of Chardonay.

Your were tipsy

I had to bring you to bed.

Your favourite expression was:


You found everything

In life sweet,

When you were stoned.

It was all too sweet,

Till you put your mask away,

To reveal what lay beneath.

Pretending to be

What you weren’t.

Your manic depression

Got the better of you.

The sleep therapy

In the Black Forest clinic,

Had helped you only for a while.

I saw you once,

From a street-car window,

Pulling and walking around

With your Bollerwagon,

Your entire belongings,

A blank expression

On your white face.

A drifter in the city,

No, life’s not sweet,

To some.

The last I heard of you was

You’d jumped out of your room

In Freiburg west,

On a gloomy Sunday.

Adieu, my lovely.

I lost you

The way I found you.

* * *

Musings in the Garden (Satis Shroff)

The reassuring ray of the sun

Break through the birch trees.

You stop chewing your bread

With Schwarzwälder speck,

Listen to the birds twittering and chirping,

Singing hymns to the sunrise,

On your spacious terrace.

After the long, icy winter

You enjoy the warmth

Of the glorious lamp of Heaven.

Out in the East,

Below the blue hills,

Where Stegen,

Buchenbach, Oberried

Are nestled,

You discern the sound of cars

Whizzing by like a swarm of hornets.

In the early morning

You’re entranced

By the blue titmice,

Kohlmeise and field sparrows,

Busily chirping and picking

At the sun-flower seeds,

You’ve strewn in the garden

And bird house,

Which dangles from a metal arch,

Where the steps begin.

A flurrying of wings,

Causes the two hares to scurry,

Take refuge on the cobbled terrace,

A warning that the fat cat from the neighbourhood

Is on the prowl in the undergrowth.

As you gaze up on the slope,

You see the sleek Fingerhut

Reaching out for the sun in light-blue glory.

The oval table is decorated

With a flowery cloth.

The aroma of the coffee

Reaches your nostrils,

Mixed with the aromatic smell

Of the Maroccan pepermint.


Fingerhut: digitalis

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