Another poem in English and German.
I love birds. Small ones like hummingbirds and finches, swifts and robins and bigger ones, too, like owls and herons or falcons and storks. And I love birdsong. I find forest birdsong, for example, very calming and comforting.
I remember, that after wakening in the mornings as a child I listened to the birds in our garden before getting up, and often I wondered what they were chatting about so eagerly and noisily. We had lots of shrubs and trees in our garden, and next to our house were many more trees, so the air was always rich with chirps and tweets.
It was sometime after I’d moved to London when I thought, There’s something missing here, but I didn’t quite know what it was I missed. And then one day, I think it was the first time I stayed at a holiday cottage in the Peak District, it clicked, and I realised it was the chirping of the birds I’d been missing all this time when waking in the mornings.
Birds are the only animals with feathers and as a little child, I loved looking at their plumage close up which I could during the winter months because my grandmother scattered seeds on the windowsill twice a day. Together we would wait for the birds to come to pick the seeds. We never had to wait long. And my grandmother pointed out each by their names. So it was like, this grey one is a sparrow, this one with the yellow chest a tit, the one with the red chest is a robin, the one with dots a thrush, the black one that has an orange beak is a blackbird, and so on.
Last year, during lockdown I heard and saw many more birds. I could even hear them in the mornings when wakening.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson is calming and uplifting especially now that we are still living in uncertain times with our freedoms ruled by restrictions and regulations, and there are terrible wars. At such times hope becomes even more important, and perhaps, the next time you see or hear a bird you remember “Hope”.
The painting above is the result of experimenting with soft oil pastels
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
by Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me
“Hoffnung” ist das Federding
“Hoffnung” ist das Federding
das in der Seele sitzt
und Lieder ohne Worte singt
und immerfort sie gibt
Am süß’ten ist’s im Sturm zu hören
und weh muss tun der Wind
der’s Vögelchen beschämen kann
das so viel Wärme bringt
Ich hab’s im kält’sten Land gehört
und auf dem weit’sten Meer
doch nie, auch wenn in größter Not
bat es ein Krümelchen von mir
German in London 