“Ich lebe mein Leben in wachsenden Ringen,
die sich über die Dinge ziehn.
Ich werde den letzten vielleicht nicht vollbringen,
aber versuchen will ich ihn.”
(R.M Rilke in Ich lebe mein Leben in wachsenden Ringen)
Liège (B)
The End
Would this be a bird paradise?
“t was a bird of Paradise,
Over the roofs he flew.
All the children, in a trice,
Clapped their hands and cried, “How nice!”
“Look — his wings are blue!”
His body was of ruby red,
His eyes were burning gold.
All the grown-up people said,
“What a pity the creature is not dead,
For then it could be sold!””
(M. Coleridge in London town)
Seraing (B)
