Writer Between Worlds

Soulful writing about humans and places

Category: Literatur

  • My books on offer!

    Dear followers – especially my Romanian-speaking ones, Editura Datagroup, my Romanian publisher, has just launched a new and improved website full of unbeatable discounts and exciting new features! If you’re looking for that special gift for Christmas this year, have a look at all the books on offer, including my own! 😉 Free delivery for…

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  • Quote of the day – Die Sünde der Erfolgsgenügsamkeit

    “Der Bau dieses Hauses war aber bei weitem nicht das Schwerste. Viel schwerer war es, die Menschen zu finden. (…) Ich nahm endlich solche Leute, die nicht Schreiner waren, und sich erst hier unterrichten sollten. Aber auch diese hatten, wie die früheren, eine Sünde, welche in Arbeitendenständen und auch wohl in anderen sehr häufig ist:…

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  • Fără titlu

    vei crede ce dorești, dar acesta este adevărul meu. ți-l spun șoptit,la ureche,ca toate adevărurile mari, care nu-s altceva decât răsuflare caldă pe piele: vreau să-mi ascult sufletul și să tac, să mă ascund de zbuciumul uneltelor care neîncetatară și, lent, ca orice suflet obosit care-și cară în spate trupul, să mă tupilez pe sub…

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  • E timpul să simți că trăiești

    … și să te convingi că ai de a face cu o arhitectură complexă de idei și emoții. Fără siropuri, fără mizerabilism. Doar farmec. Și câteva tabuuri. #ficțiuneliterară #mister #dragoste #societate

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  • Abschwörung

    Ich schwöre die Liebe ab. Das Einzige worin ich gut war. Das Einzige wozu ich vielleicht etwas taugte – ich schwöre es ab, dieses unendliche Grauen. Nie wieder werde ich in deinem Körper verweilen, noch du in meiner Erinnerung.

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  • The Poem

    The Poem

    At night, the poem seeks itself like the blinking white of an eye amid the dark tempest.

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  • Abandon

    Abandon

    We had roots. Our roots had roots. Our roots’ roots had roots, but then fall came and our leaves began to fall, one by one to the ground, crackling dry. And in the soil they made we were rooted. But the light called to our children and to our children’s children. They clambered to the…

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  • Toamna (haiku)

    Toamna (haiku)

    Înflăcărarea se stinge în râuri moi de pace mută.

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  • No photos

    Crows on a dying treetop, scattered on its bare branches before taking flight. Crickets in grass, loud, and reeds slowly slanting below blue mountains, crimson suns and clouds like cotton of the purest white. I take no photos and no hostages from this: I simply watch how the marvels explode on an organic retina that…

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  • Și de sus ninge cu pene

    Și de sus ninge cu pene

    Fă-mă arbore, îi șoptesc nucului, cu trupul cald lipit de trunchiul lui rece și aspru, să întind brațe interminabile către cer, din care să îmi crească alte brațe și tot așa, să adun cu ele lumina – mai multă! mai multă! – să mă hrănesc cu ea, să văd de sus lumea cum treceprin timp…

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  • On Leaving My Walled Garden

    I hugged each tree trunk one by one, caressed each stalk, each stem, each textured leaf, each evanescent petal that now is a fresh-scented pink and by dawn, sallow, already reeks of wilted tissue and, with eyes closed,I breathed. I breathed and I touched. I mapped bark creases and crevasses, patterns of smoothness and ridges,…

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  • Saying Goodbye to a Tree

    I hugged the tree in my garden yesterday as it spread its arms out into that empty space that summer weaves out of vapor and linden fragrance. I hugged my tree yesterday held it tight bark against cheek and whispered my goodbyes. It felt rooted and rough I entered its shy shade like one enters a…

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