Fröh Weihnachten!

Merry Christmas !

Musik: Volksweise
Text: Ernst Anschütz, 1824

O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum,
wie treu sind deine Blätter!
Du grünst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit,
Nein auch im Winter, wenn es schneit.
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum,
wie treu sind deine Blätter!

O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree
How loyal are your leaves/needles!
You’re green not only in the summertime,
No, also in winter when it snows.
O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree
How loyal are your leaves/needles!

O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum!
Du kannst mir sehr gefallen!
Wie oft hat nicht zur Weihnachtszeit
Ein Baum von dir mich hoch erfreut!
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum!
Du kannst mir sehr gefallen!

O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree
You can please me very much!
How often has not at Christmastime
A tree like you given me such joy!
O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree,
You can please me very much!

O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum!
Dein Kleid will mich was lehren:
Die Hoffnung und Beständigkeit
Gibt Trost und Kraft zu jeder Zeit.
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum!
Das soll dein Kleid mich lehren.

O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree
Your dress wants to teach me something:
Your hope and durability
Provide comfort and strength at any time.
O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree
That’s what your dress should teach me.

This traditional German carol was composed by the court chaplain of Gotha, Wilhelm Hey, in 1837.

Alle Jahre wieder
Kommt das Christuskind
Auf die Erde nieder,
Wo wir Menschen sind.

Kehrt mit seinem Segen
Ein in jedes Haus,
Geht auf allen Wegen
Mit uns ein und aus.

Steht auch mir zur Seite
Still und unerkannt,
Dass es treu mich leite
An der lieben Hand

chakras

And it is this night, the blue night of
a thousand stars when a million holy
evangelicals bending the night softly
but severely, their arcs waving
like sails, pulsing through his beauty
his strong limbs above me while
starlight wings wave angelically

through the matrix of infinite history’s
cold streams running over beds of stone
embalmed in mystery, and cries of prayers
Sometimes lightstreams escaping throwing
off bolts of lightning, in shapes soft in
the distance, covering the climbing hills

My lover moulding the shape of my heart
his fingers like fog smoothing over my
cracked gullies, the earth rising beneath me
lifting me to the sky, turning to catch his kisses
love that is still poorly defined is the very
definition of love Itself, Love as a verb
a virginal love turning erotic Love opening
to first ecstasy forever, together we call out for
the merciful God who will protect us
from all evil, our eyes on the skies where
the fire is rising to a clapping far off thunder
ending in a song of glad blessing and penance

©Ionwhite

Image result for beautiful night sky projection over a lovers bed"

torche de dieu

Do you see him? There
From the high tower with a torch in hand?

What does he say in his deep, tender voice?
The torch falling from his outstretched hand,
‘Oh, I will be the One who will create your god!
The fires howling around me, rising flames
a huge quarreling of red eagles flying through
the black and swirling smoke and wind

The god melts gold that flows around my
marble body, a blazing splendor and ardor
silken short shivers bursting and all the
the dying demons sing to the flaming
having understood that he is the One; he
is my god; my cries singing into the air
my hurricane soul rising, resigning

And he, proud god, over me the crossed
arms of a king, his glancing eye opening up the
sky reaching the furnace of all Light
whispering prayers, my own prayerful
Being: Has ever a woman died from singing?

Refusing my sacrifice, he assured me
without difficulty that it was
all just a mischief and artifice used to
strip my pride of its lies.

©Ionwhite

Image result for the handwriting of god en fracais images"
Image result for the handwriting of god en fracais images"

La tristesse durera toujours

Dressed up in silk and gold
Beautiful demons dance,
teenage satans sing a waltz
to the Seven Sins of their five senses.

It’s the feast of the Seven Sins:
how beautiful they are! All
desire shining from their
brutal eyes, appetites sated are the
quickened sand that they harness
with lusts pouring over
their lives like pink wines
into crystal goblets

Dancing rhythms gently interrupted
by the beauty of voiceless men, their
moans unfolding, throbbing like waves
through the cosmos of lust
as the Light that was leaving them,
grew so powerful and charming that
around them all, the countryside of God
was blooming with holy roses and diamonds
in the grass;

In vain the demon party danced
In vain the satans, her brothers and sisters
failed to grab her away from the Light;

She has resisted all hugs, and her sorrow
becomes a black butterfly branded to
her forehead, burning with jewels;

La tristesse durera toujours..

©Ionwhite