Ich habe dich nie je so geliebt
I never loved you more, ma soeur
Than as I walked away from you that evening.
The forest swallowed me, the blue forest, ma soeur
The blue forest and above it pale stars in the west.
I did not laugh, not one little bit, ma soeur
As I playfully walked towards a dark fate -
While the faces behind me
Slowly paled in the evening of the blue forest.
Everything was grand that one night, ma soeur
Never thereafter and never before -
I admit it: I was left with nothing but the big birds
And their hungry cries in the dark evening sky.
poem by Bertolt Brecht
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Related quotes
The magic forest
At the Bois de Boulogne lies magic
Magic that cannot be evitable
Magic that lures people into the evergreen forest
In the forest, soft earth is like a comfy bed
Meadows of grass are green sheets for the bed
If you happen to lie down on the bed
The sunlight hugs your body gently like a mother
Your eyes are heavy weights, unable to keep your eyes open
You fall into the sweetest dream as time goes by…
Night walked into the forest as day walked out of the forest
The pale moon is like a glass eye of a witch staring at you
The dark magic falls into the forest
Lusty monsters fill the magic forest
And the magic forest falls asleep…
The Heart
The wild heart grew white in the forest;
Dark anxiety
Of death, as when the gold
Died in the grey cloud.
An evening in November.
A crowd of needy women stood at the bare gate
Of the slaughterhouse;
Rotten meat and guts fell
Into every basket;
Horrible food.
The blue dove of the evening
Brought no forgiveness.
The dark cry of trumpets
Tr a v e l l e d i n t h e golden branches
Of the soaked elms,
A frayed flag
Smoking with blood,
To w h i c h a m a n l i s t e n s
In wild despair.
All your days of nobility, buried
In that red evening!
Out of the dark entrance hall
The golden shape
Of the young girl steps
Surrounded by the pale moon,
The prince’s court of autumn,
Black fir trees broken
In the night’s storm,
The steep fortress.
O heart
Glittering above in the snowy cold
poem by Georg Trakl
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Lonely Tree
A lonely tree
On a lonely hill
Wishes to be
A forest still
Thou all alone
It dreams of more
Of seedlings grown
From its forest floor
Their branches growing
Ever climbing high
So feverish flowing
To reach blue sky
Covering this land
Beyond its view
A forest grand
All fresh and new
A sight to behold
It would surely be
A dream so bold
For such a lonely tree.
“closing thought”
A family is like a forest that continues to grow
From a lone simple seedling it outwardly flows
poem by Gordon Jerome
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Homecoming
When the evening breathes golden rest
Forest and dark meadow before which
Man is a looker,
A shepherd, dwelling in the flocks' dusking stillness,
The patience of the red beeches;
So clearly since it has become autumn. By the hill
The lonely one listens to the flight of birds,
To dark meaning and the shadows of the dead
Have gathered more seriously around him;
Cool mignonette scent fulfills him with shudders,
The huts of the villagers the elder,
Where in former times the child dwelled.
Memory, buried hope
Is preserved by these brown rafters,
Over which dahlias hang
So that the hands strive after them,
In the brown garden the shimmering step
Forbidden loving, dark year,
That from blue eyelids the tears
Of the stranger fell irresistibly.
From brown treetops dew drips,
When that one, a blue deer, awakes on the hill,
Listening to the loud calls of the fishermen
By the evening pond
To the amorphous cry of the bats;
But in golden stillness
The drunken heart dwells
Full of its noble death.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Images
I
Like a gondola of green scented fruits
Drifting along the dark canals of Venice,
You, O exquisite one,
Have entered into my desolate city.
II
The blue smoke leaps
Like swirling clouds of birds vanishing.
So my love leaps forth toward you,
Vanishes and is renewed.
III
A rose-yellow moon in a pale sky
When the sunset is faint vermilion
In the mist among the tree-boughs
Art thou to me, my beloved.
IV
A young beech tree on the edge of the forest
Stands still in the evening,
Yet shudders through all its leaves in the light air
And seems to fear the stars -
So are you still and so tremble.
V
The red deer are high on the mountain,
They are beyond the last pine trees.
And my desires have run with them.
VI
The flower which the wind has shaken
Is soon filled again with rain;
So does my heart fill slowly with tears,
Until you return.
poem by Richard Aldington
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A Dedication
Because I went the lone ways
Among the tall trees,
Because I loved the blue days,
The bird melodies,
Deemed you I did our love wrong
In loving these too?
Ah, every forest love song
Was sung, love, for you.
The green slope, the sky above,
The wild forest lore-
All these were but the mind's love:
The deep heart has more.
And were you rival of the wren?
Resentful of the dawn?
Ah, what would these avail, then,
If you, dear, were gone?
The wild joy that things possess
Would seem out of place,
And all beauty meaningless
For want of one face;
The wren's lilt for lack of you
Would wring the heart's core,
And stars upon the night's blue
Would move me no more.
poem by James Martin Devaney
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The Green Roads
The green roads that end in the forest
Are strewn with white goose feathers this June,
Life marks left behind by someone gone to the forest
To show his track. But he has never come back.
Down each green road a cottage looks at the forest.
Round one the nettle towers; two are bathed in flowers.
An old man along the green road to the forest
Strays from one, from another a child alone.
In the thicket bordering the forest,
All day long a thrush twiddles his song.
It is old, but the trees are young in the forest,
All but one like a castle keep, in the middle deep.
That oak saw the ages pass in the forest:
They were a host, but their memories are lost,
For the tree is dead: all things forget the forest
Excepting perhaps me, when now I see
The old man, the child, the goose feathers at the edge of the forest,
And hear all day long the thrush repeat his song.
poem by Edward Thomas
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In Tempreate Forest
In Temperate Forest,
Neither cold nor warm.
You can take serene rest,
Expanding your arm.
Humming with lively life,
Birds call from the trees.
In their delight and strife;
Insects rustle like breeze.
The thick leaves of forest,
Cut sunlight in drops.
Seeing the peaceful nest,
Heart happily throbs.
Honey-suckle, blue-bell,
Bloom and laugh in gay.
Hazel, dog-wood, sorrel,
Enjoying the day!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Wild Forest Flower
Rough around the edges but a tender center
This is my wild forest flower
Short and slender with long flowing blonde hair
This is my wild forest flower
A loving heart that goes beyond what I can see
This is my wild forest flower
I want to hold my flower in my hands
Wondering why she holds back and refuses to stand
I water it every now and then to watch it grow
But it takes too long because it’s a little slow
So I wait patiently for the flower to begin to rise
Even though I can still hear the weeping willows cries
Firm and hard headed but with a loving touch
This is my wild forest flower
Always hiding and always scared like a little child
This is my wild forest flower
The only one im willing to be with anymore
This is my wild forest flower
A darkened hush rises in the sky above my flower
The roots slowly exposing themselves out of fear
A forest fire begins in the distance soon to consume it
The fire rages ready to consume the small thing in power
This little bitty flower that I love and hold so dear
but I laugh because I know how this fire got lit
poem by Branden Aeling
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In The Forest
By the sacred grove, where the waters flow
We will come and go, in the forest
In the summer rain, we will meet again
We will learn the code of the ancient ones
In the forest
By the waterfall, I will hold you in my arms
We will meet again by the leafy glade
In the shade of the forest
With your long robes on, we will surely roam
By the ancient roads, I will take you home
To the forest
In the forest, in the forest
In the forest, in the forest
With your long robes on, we will surely roam
By the ancient roads, I will take you home again
To the forest
Satisfy the soul baby
Birds sing all day long of the mother lode
We can let it roll, in the forest
With your long robes on
I know where youre coming from
By the big oak tree youve gotta come and go with me
In the forest, in the forest
In the forest, in the forest
By the waterfall
I will hold you in my arms, and we will meet again
By the leafy shade, in the, in the forest
Satisfy the soul
Birds sing all day long of the mother lode
We can surely let it roll, in the forest
With your long robes on
I know where youre coming from
We will surely roam, down by the ancient roads
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forest Of Souls
The path was dark and shadowed,
They walked as their children followed.
Through the forest to the feild,
For time they shall not yeild.
Lost souls on their paths to fate,
As the reach eternals gate.
The path was dark and shadowed
They walked on as their children followed
The darkness is overcoming
As if to bow before what they are becoming.
They walk with their eyes ahead,
with nowhere to go but where they are lead.
They walk with family, with lovers,
As the mist lightly huvers
The path was dark and shadowed,
As they walk on with more coming to follow.
Their souls are lost, their hearts are gone,
As they walk through the woods as they walk on.
They carry the memories with them,
They leave all their feelings behind them.
Now they walk as one,
Until all but an empy shell is gone.
The path becomes dark and shadowed,
As more people come to follow.
The souls of men, of people,
As they all come, all the people.
They walk through the forest, through the wood,
Down the path of fate, past where they once stood.
The path is dark and shadowed,
As more and more people follow.
They walk past trees,
And plants and bushes, past all of these.
They walk, an empty shell, their emotions and their being...gone.
The souls walk on.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Knowing You're There
Snow melts in the warm sun
My streams flow to you
No one should be this lonely
Birds call in the forest
Red, blue, yellow
The song of spring
They find their sweet mate
Nests in the forest
Blue robins eggs
Why do we hurt one another?
Love is such fire
Are you there?
Can you hear me?
Acorns grow
Rivers swell with love
Hope makes me look for you
Roses haunt me
Starlight kisses the sea
I am twisted
Filled with yearning
I need you
I am growing old
Please find me in time
Hearts need dreams
I am comforted
Knowing you're there
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Fairy
Somehow we run in the dark forest
No light, no sight, just night
But my heart's still searching for a hope
To fight, for right
And then all's shiny like fairy
In the circle, in the middle
of the forest
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Elle était pâle, et pourtant rose...
Elle était pâle, et pourtant rose,
Petite avec de grands cheveux.
Elle disait souvent : je n'ose,
Et ne disait jamais : je veux.
Le soir, elle prenait ma Bible
Pour y faire épeler sa soeur,
Et, comme une lampe paisible,
Elle éclairait ce jeune coeur.
Sur le saint livre que j'admire
Leurs yeux purs venaient se fixer ;
Livre où l'une apprenait à lire,
Où l'autre apprenait à penser !
Sur l'enfant, qui n'eût pas lu seule,
Elle penchait son front charmant,
Et l'on aurait dit une aïeule,
Tant elle parlait doucement !
Elle lui disait: Sois bien sage!
Sans jamais nommer le démon ;
Leurs mains erraient de page en page
Sur Moïse et sur Salomon,
Sur Cyrus qui vint de la Perse,
Sur Moloch et Léviathan,
Sur l'enfer que Jésus traverse,
Sur l'éden où rampe Satan.
Moi, j'écoutais... - Ô joie immense
De voir la soeur près de la soeur!
Mes yeux s'enivraient en silence
De cette ineffable douceur.
Et, dans la chambre humble et déserte,
Où nous sentions, cachés tous trois,
Entrer par la fenêtre ouverte
Les souffles des nuits et des bois,
Tandis que, dans le texte auguste,
Leurs coeurs, lisant avec ferveur,
Puisaient le beau, le vrai, le juste,
Il me semblait, à moi rêveur,
Entendre chanter des louanges
Autour de nous, comme au saint lieu,
Et voir sous les doigts de ces anges
Tressaillir le livre de Dieu !
poem by Victor Hugo
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Colors of Silence
Yellow roses swing in the wind
Lonely dogs bark but the wolves prevail
The violin strings snap, protesting
The aloofly silent mind of the nail.
Blue tulips pray with the bells
On the lake white triangles sail
The postman walks slowly, pondering
The silent somber red box of the mail.
Evening descends on the green hills
The trees are wincing along the grey tail
In the dense dark rests the black forest
The silence dreams it screams under a veil.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Sonnet. Written In Answer To A Sonnet By J. H. Reynolds
Blue! 'Tis the life of heaven,--the domain
Of Cynthia,--the wide palace of the sun,--
The tent of Hesperus, and all his train,--
The bosomer of clouds, gold, gray, and dun.
Blue! 'Tis the life of waters: -- Ocean
And all its vassal streams, pools numberless,
May rage, and foam, and fret, but never can
Subside, if not to dark-blue nativeness.
Blue! Gentle cousin of the forest-green,
Married to green in all the sweetest flowers,--
Forget-me-not,--the Blue bell,--and, that Queen
Of secrecy, the Violet: what strange powers
Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great,
When in an Eye thou art alive with fate!
poem by John Keats
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Those bare forests
When I was young, I had gone to this forest,
It was dark, deep and wild,
Like my youth it was full of resources,
I had spent few days there and had learned how the forest life is?
Forest life means survival of the fittest,
I could not find difference between city and forest,
In city too only the fittest can survive else the human who have wore the leather of lethal animal will not let the herbivore animal like us to live.
After twenty years struggling in the city and being tortured by children,
I returned back to the same forest to see its growth,
I could see it was bare, cut by poacher, deforesters,
It had not followed its own rule and the trees which it holds were all ageing like me,
We both were thrown out of the society it was thrown by cutting and I by my own sons.
I and it had the same fate bare with few more ageing hair and trees to be removed.
poem by Sambidhan Acharya
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The Nature of an Un-Dead Man
He threw the ball for five miles it reached,
The route to put the shot was black and dark
In the middle of a forest at night, fully dark;
It was perhaps what? It was a sacred instrument
But a silver bullet, one for the masters of least leniency,
He was to spread the monster of an un-dead nature
On the floor of the forest where the wild mushrooms were found;
It may be different, but this man was unfed by dread
And he left his soul to the dead, like a man who fed
The life of evil, and scourges happened from him,
He left the messages of old that were ours;
Just so that he did, he left us for he hated us, and when should he die?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Home From The Forest
Oh the neon lights were flashin
And the icy wind did blow
The water seeped into his shoes
And the drizzle turned to snow
His eyes were red, his hopes were dead
And the wine was runnin low
And the old man came home
From the forest
His tears fell on the sidewalk
As he stumbled in the street
A dozen faces stopped to stare
But no one stopped to speak
For his castle was a hallway
And the bottle was his friend
And the old man stumbled in
From the forest
Up a dark and dingy staircase
The old man made his way
His ragged coat around him
As upon his cot he lay
And he wondered how it happened
That he ended up this way
Getting lost like a fool
In the forest
And as he lay there sleeping
A vision did appear
Upon his mantle shining
A face of one so dear
Who had loved him in the springtime
Of a long-forgotten year
When the wildflowers did bloom
In the forest
She touched his grizzled fingers
And she called him by his name
And then he heard the joyful sound
Of children at their games
In an old house on a hillside
In some forgotten town
Where the river runs down
From the forest
With a mighty roar the big jets soar
Above the canyon streets
And the con men con but life goes on
For the city never sleeps
And to an old forgotten soldier
The dawn will come no more
For the old man has come home
From the forest
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Atavism
1
Sometimes in the open you look up
where birds go by, or just nothing,
and wait. A dim feeling comes
you were like this once, there was air,
and quiet; it was by a lake, or
maybe a river you were alert
as an otter and were suddenly born
like the evening star into wide
still worlds like this one you have found
again, for a moment, in the open.
2
Something is being told in the woods: aisles of
shadow lead away; a branch waves;
a pencil of sunlight slowly travels its
path. A withheld presence almost
speaks, but then retreats, rustles
a patch of brush. You can feel
the centuries ripple generations
of wandering, discovering, being lost
and found, eating, dying, being born.
A walk through the forest strokes your fur,
the fur you no longer have. And your gaze
down a forest aisle is a strange, long
plunge, dark eyes looking for home.
For delicious minutes you can feel your whiskers
wider than your mind, away out over everything.
poem by William Stafford
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