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Best Poems From
ERHARD HANS JOSEF LANG
(January 8,1957)
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49.
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From Out Of My Heart... (translation with original)
From out of my heart I despise
Each and every slave of material matters
Who out of greed into the
Country's provision sheds even collects the maggots
And who regardless of the country's state of need
Goes about with loads of gold on his shoulders
and sighs out of being troubled.
And bad I say to be him who,
Fatherland on his lips
And pretending love,
But only searches for his reputation,
And, like an empty head of cereal ears,
Only strives for heaven,
But produces no fruit.
But he shall get my curses,
Who out of the breast of his fatherland
Sips the sap, the life
And power from out of his people,
And if miserable they have become
Only sits in the lap of pleasures
And derides the one who's bearing him.
* * * * *
translated by Erhard Hans Josef Lang after the original by Paavo Cajander (1846 - 1915) , which was published in 1878 in 'Kaikuja Hämeestä'
SYDÄMMESTÄNI...
Sydämmestäni halveksin
Jokaista aineen orjaa,
Jok' itaruudest' aittoihin
Maan toukkasetkin korjaa,
Ja katsomatta hätää maan,
Käy kultataakat harteillaan
Ja vaivaisuuttaan huokaa.
Ja kehnoks sen ma sanon, ken,
Isänmaa huulillansa
Ja rakkautta teeskellen,
Vaan etsii mainettansa,
Ja, niinkuin tyhjä tähkäpää,
Vaan taivahille yrittää,
Mut hedelmää ei tuota.
Mut kirouksein saakoon hän,
Ken povest' isänmaansa
Imeepi mehun, elämän
Ja voiman kansastansa,
Ja kurjaks näin sen saatuaan,
Hekuman helmoiss' istuu vaan
Ja kantajaansa herjaa.
Paavo Cajander
Kaikuja Hämeestä 1878
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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50.
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Geese That Start To Prick The Spotless
What in all the world
would our knowledgable meta-scientists proclaim
if all of sudden a sort of
nervous confusion were to befall
our other animals too?
And for example a certain group of spotted geese
were to start attacking all other geese
who differed in no other way
than that their plumage was all spotless?
'Hitler in his likes being reborn! '
'The demon is coming back in the shape of geese.'
As if their goose leader had called out to all of them:
'We're now going on a little hunting spree first,
before we're to sit back again and be relaxed.'
This is but only a surrealistic poem
since the exposed matter is most unlikely
to ever happen in the animal world proper.
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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51.
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Hailed Her, Held'er, Scaled'er Trampling On Her Grounds
* in commemoration of the victims of the November 2008 terrorist attack on Mumbai *
Once in days of long before
They hailed her, then
Held her in awe divine -
Upon the grand awakening, in the early days
After the coming of
The human Child out of the lap of nature.
We today, who meanwhile for so long
Have been plodding on in
This greatest adventure through all universal times,
Now might say:
'We had held'er and we have scaled'er,
The one who ought to be
Most hallowed among all to be hailed
Whom but we had allowed ourselves so much to be abused' -
We - the people,
She - our Mother earth -
As we've reared her children, who again reaped the fruits of her lands
For hundreds and thousands of years,
Skilfully and industrious, better than
Bees or ants or any other beasts possibly could have done it,
So we think,
Our hearts swelling up with human grandeur
In our self-determined, wizened rise above the animals' rough life
in one's pursuit of survival,
Embellishing the cherry-blossom cheeks on
Earth Mother's face of nurtured nature's lively moulds
With evermore intelligently artefacted
Layers of multi-faceted crops of
All kinds of human assets,
Ultimately, all of it topped with an ingenious snapshot
Of our own home planet
We've eventually managed to take from outer space
Against the planetary bounds of gravity,
As we're communicating through extensions of
Human mind across the distances
With invented gadgets of our own design.
While endlessly plying our nitty-gritty world's tiny rounds
In this grand spectacular cosmic arena
Shined on by our iridescent
Prolongations of the
Light from the Sun,
Our parental planet's source of fire,
Whilst, amongst ourselves, we're found as
Incessantly being focused in
On who of us exactly were Who,
Which of ours exactly were Which -
Which of the many different characters, visages
Of our own stock, of the other people were how to be reckoned on,
Best to be dealt with,
Which of the many different ways people take to walking on were
The most recommendable one of all the others.
Nature spurned life into existence,
To surprise the divine cosmic visionaire
With the gift of shaping up things seen in mind
In solid matter, and
It spurns life, onward to go, by
The power of mothers of love, who
All of them are emulating the love of our greatest, our primal Mother,
Most passionate a lover,
Who can be a terrible fighter, too, on behalf of her beloved children,
If she's driven mad by one or the other
In her big family garden,
As basic, and sometimes even radical, therefore likewise we, too,
Her children, have a tendency to be,
When it comes to loving our own breed.
Then, how about that shortage in brotherly love and
Understanding as witnessed daily
Within this grown-up family of our humankind consisting of
Different creeds, habits and outlooks in life? -
After all of us once having hailed her,
During our younger days all of us
Having held her in close embrace,
Explored her every angle, nook and cranny,
Growing quite safely on her bosom,
Scaled all her challenging peaks at our own risk,
Delved into all of her wondrous depths,
On this our fantastic Mother Earth's gorgeous body,
Eventually having worked out giant masterplans of
How to finally beat all our little physical wants
And higher needs as imagined,
To be able to smoothen that harsh harness
Placed around naked crude life,
As by now,
In the wake of our customized conveniences,
We're seen conducting ourselves
Happily puffing it away on Her wasteland's
Well hidden energy-packed treasures,
Whenever getting ourselves on the go
Wherever, however
At all times -?
Humanity, when
Looked upon as a whole,
Appears to be until now, and
Despite greatest acclaimed achievements of comfort
In the shared residence under our skies,
One big troubled family, nevertheless,
Troubled still by so many things, all
Because of an inborn sloth or
An egotistic protective shell of hate or loathe,
Or is it all strictly because of that bedraggled money
We have made our secret ruler of the hearth,
Meant to propel the quickening of our means of livelihood, by all means?
'We are the good people on earth', say the ones,
'We are the good people on earth, ' say the others.
'We were your old friends and neighbours,
Always, at the least, have been as good as you yourselves,
At most times even better, and
Therefore why shouldn't we then deserve a treatment fully apar with yours,
You, who have betrayed our blood line,
Of the same amount of attention
From those of our modern world's most privileged and their capital boosters
So much needed by everyone of us to stay afloating
In the globalized world market of fair vanities,
And even if it meant we had to fight for our rights with force'
(While most often times it's more like
We're dealing with cheat-necked self-infatuated cracked heads
Boastful of their own riches
Floating their capital's proceeds all around the world,
As they're developing it, solely
For their own gettin' bloated up more and more
Rather than that they were the saviour-spirited
Savvy boosters of poor nations
For good old humanity's sake that
They're taken for by those
Blinded by the trail of gold dust ever seen flurrying up in the air,
With the skyway of the jets that
Bring in the dreamt-of luxuries
Served out by humanitarian heavenly damsels)
'Boom, boom, bang, bang, shoot, shoot'
'Boom, boom, bang, bang, shoot, shoot'-
Helter Skelter -
Speak the guns in the hands of the terrified desolate
Underdog heroes of the belittled other good clan's neighbour,
Gone desperate.
'Hailed Her, Held'er, Scaled'er
Trampling on Her grounds.'
Wouldn't it be enough of the face washing for now, dearest Mother Earth,
That maybe already by tomorrow
We, all of us together, will install you again to be our world's true queen,
With your glorious head high up in miraculous heavens and
Your feet seen again stepping human grounds,
Lightening our burdens,
As we'll be shown which way to follow
To reach to a wholly new season of life's blooming
At the side of our Mother Earth rejoicing again for once, and
Subsequently rejuvenating?
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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52.
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Heart-Felt Cosmic Impacts With Shiva In The Wings And Lyrical Messages
We all are children of the cosmos
And as such alway under the cosmic sway
And as a human of blood and flesh it sometimes feels good to see
This impact showing its face
In the mask of a Face itself, that one may see, almost visible,
Giggling before our own.
As to-day when I was about to send out,
As I often do early in the mornings,
Lyrical spiritual messages,
To a few worthy poetry lovers
Throughout this country where I live,
Both known and unknown to me -
One of them once sent me a souvenir thank-you from Rome, Italy -
And there had, for to-day, accrued a message
With verses from the most glorious Vedas,
To be sent, first in order, ahead of one more package of messages,
The other one of worldly theme, the following sacred hymns,
Endowed with their very own explanatory notes,
So as to render all simplest things well understood:
' Gracious to us be the trembling earth,
When struck by the fiery meteor.
Gracious be the cows yielding red milk,
Gracious be the earth receding.
Gracious be the constellations struck by the meteor,
Gracious incantations and all magic!
Gracious to us be buried charms,
The meteors and plagues that afflict us.
Gracious to us be the stars and the moon,
Gracious the sun and Raahu
(The invisible 'planetary head tail' that
Covers up other planets in times of eclipses) ,
Gracious be Death with his banner of smoke,
Graceful the powerful Rudras
(The cleansing powers of renewal of cosmos
Working on earth through shedding tears) .
Gracious be the Rudras, gracious the Vasus
(The cosmic providers for new vessels to departed souls) ,
Gracious the Adityas
(The sons of the seer Mother Aditi in whom
The gods had their respective individual angles in the One Cosmic Mind
Established on the human plane for the first time,
Who reincarnate in all mystic seers of power)
And Agnis (the embodied incarnations of the fire-god,
The divinizing medium between humans and gods) ,
Gracious to us be the god-like sages,
Gracious to us be the Gods and Brhaspati
(The ancient guru of the [minds of the] gods, husband of Aditi) .
Brahman (balanced vibration of cosmic consciousness) ,
Prajapati (cosmic fathering spirit who
Kindles the fire to his vision of creation) ,
Dhatr (lit. the giver, the spirit of yielding cosmic nature) ,
The worlds, the Vedas, the Seven Sages, and the fires,
Prepare for me a blessed path!
May Indra (the King of Gods) be my refuge,
May Brahman be my refuge,
May all the Gods be my refuge!
May the Gods united be my refuge! '
And there had been, on the eve of this very same morning,
With both planned-for message packages already prepared for their sending,
Following Current NewsFlash publicly out,
In the media from the north-eastern European country of Finland:
'There has been 400 reported incidents of spottings of
A fire-ball soaring high through the night sky in the area of Ursa,
Somewhere deep in the province of Finland's Northern Bottomland,
And there have been several reported incidents of people
Finding meteorites scattered about,
Especially in the area of a place called Temmel
(Which literally translates as 'Battle Field' into English)
And there in that area people may expect to find more meteorites
Even in their own backyards,
So the report, of this cosmic import, went on to say.
Now, the second batch of messages,
To complete this report of cosmic impact of
Divine coincidings - real heart-felt ones -
Note the meaning of the town's name of Finnish Temmel! -
Had been part and parcel of eleven in a string of poems,
A narrative of great late Ella Wheeler Wilcox',
Part of which reads as follows:
' And blood of warrior, woman and papoose
[North-American native infant or younger child],
Flow free as waters when some dam breaks loose;
Consuming fire, the wanton friend of war
(Whom allies worship and whom foes abhor)
Now trails her crimson garments through the street,
And ruin marks the passing of her feet.
Full three-score lodges smoke upon the plain,
And all the vale is strewn with bodies of the slain.
And those who are not numbered with the dead
Before all-conquering Custer now are led.
To soothe their woes, and calm their fears he seeks;
An Osage guide interprets while he speaks.
The vanquished captives, humbled, cowed and spent
Read in the victor's eye his kind intent.
The modern victor is as kind as brave;
His captive is his guest, not his insulted slave. '
Then also to-day it had come to happen that
The one and only priest in our family's line
From my good old late father's side,
Father Anton, who the other day passed on at age eighty-six,
A charming figure all through his life,
Was being buried for his soul's eternal rest.
During the whole of this morning's message sending operation
To my eight regular message readers from the pacified rim,
Fond of Vedic verses and of modern & old poetry,
There were earthquake-like irregularities in the sending system itself,
That in the end I was yet able to get tackled,
so as not to thwart the whole sending of
Both the above cited to each of them eight -
Annoying erratic automatic double sendings,
And the like errors in the telecommunication system -
The affliction of the meteor, spoken of in
The verses 'of the day' of the ancient sacred Vedas, as like
Pounding on me through alignment of
Contents of the message to be sent
With a real-time rare event in time and space &
Queerness of the signals from the sending system alike -
That stand like a friend's remindful lovely tapping on one's shoulders -
While at the same time it was to me a last word of good-bye
From out of a most high-faring flight of my father's clan's -
The Soul of Father Anton may fly high! -
The wry giggling smile of Shiva,
The divine smile's lip-line drawn slightly across and way over from
Where the earth's magnet pole is set on to, too -
Right there in the northern portion in the heart of a country,
As northern-east as any country on this planet can be - Finland -
Shiva, the God of the sensuous fire
That moulds all Nature in forms divine,
Is known to be stationed in the North,
Where also the lingam, his sacred idol is ever pointed to -
As if this smile of Shiva's of cosmic impacts were to say:
' The soul stays never, the stages pass;
All life is the play of the power that stirs
In the dance of my wanton worshippers.
And the strong swift river my shrine below
It runs, like man, its unending course,
To the boundless sea from eternal snow;
Mine is the Fountain - and mine the Force
That spurs all nature to ceaseless strife;
And my image is Death at the gates of Life.
In many a legend and many a shape,
In the solemn grove and the crowded street,
I am the Slayer, whom none escape,
I am Death trod under a fair girl's feet;
I govern the tides of the sentient sea
That ebbs and flows to eternity
And the sum of the thought and the knowledge of man
Is the secret tale that my emblems tell;
Do ye seek God's purpose, or trace his plan?
Ye may read your doom in my parable;
For the circle of life in its flower and its fall
Is the writing that runs on my temple wall. -
Let my temples fall, they are dark with age,
Let my idols break, they have stood their day;
On their deep hewn stones the primeval sage
Has figured the spells that endure alway;
My presence may vanish from river and grove,
But I rule for ever in Death and Love, '
In the words of another great late poet,
Whose great soul, powerful, just recently had made itself known to me,
Having itself sent over through the ether
By means perfected only in to-day's coincidentally striking
Divine scheme of said cosmic poetical wizardry.
© Erhard Hans Josef Lang
Oct.2,2007
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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