LIEDERKRANZ: A Wreath of Songs (Satis Shroff, Freiburg-Kappel)

A burly, baldy waiter shuffled by with a tray full of beer bottles and wine glasses for the delight of the guests at the festival hall in Freiburg-Kappel. Elderly members of the men’s choir called Liederkranz, which in English means a ‘wreath of songs’ and their elegantly dressed spouses were also there, short grey-hair neatly cut, wearing conservative jackets, gold necklaces and smiles, instead of frowns. After all, they were out to have a pleasant time and listen to their spouses singing songs from olde Germany.

We come across many folk songs (Volkslieder) that have been handed down verbally through the generations, and whose original composers are unknown, from the 16th century onwards. Lieder have been mostly written by German poets. The folk songs have undergone a lot of adaptations with the passage of time. A hymn, for instance, is a sacral song used in the church and among the Hindus in India and Nepal the sacral songs have their origin in the vedic scriptures. In Germany we have a rich tradition of the soldier’s song (Soldatenlieder), the marching songs (Marschlieder), student songs (Studentenlieder), drinking songs (Trinklieder), love songs (Liebeslieder) and the wanderer’s song (Wanderlieder) to name a few.

In the German language the word ‘Lied’ also denotes poetry, for instance Schiller’s Lied von der Glocke (Song of the Bell) and a vocalised form for example Gustav Mahler’s Lied von der Erde (The Song of the Earth) which is based on six poems from The Chinese Flute by Hans Bethge.

A kiddy band played ‘Raindrops falling on my Head.’ Music without words. It was interesting to know that a lot of work is being done to motivate the youth in Kappel and get them busy with music and songs lest they become idle and loiter around. What is interesting is that a lot of German Moms and Dads take an active interest in the development of their children and make sure that the home-works are done and that the children have enough to do in their spare time by making them take part in music lessons, riding, soccer, fire-brigade, swimming lessons, karate and other activities. Unlike in Sweden, where the teachers take over the discipline pedagogy and parents don’t have to do or help their children with home-works, in Germany the educators expect the parents to help with the lessons. So if you have a migrant family with parents who are good in Arabic, Turkish or other language but not in German, it is pre-programmed that the child won’t make much headway at school and will end up as a hair-cutter, car-mechanic, doing the laundry of others or cleaning the floors of German hospitals. Extra tuition means investing extra money.

The children’s band played Glenn Miller’s ‘Moonlight serenade’ a wonderful song and melody for a fox-trot. Ah, what associations a melody conjours. You remember the university dances, gliding gracefully with your beautiful partner in tact with the music. When I hear Frank Sinatra’s version of ‘New York, New York’ I’m transported to an evening at the Piazza San Marco where I did a fox-trot with a charming masked lady who spoke German. You can’t help tethering a melody or song to a landscape or a person from your past, can you?

We began the evening with Manfred Bühler’s ‘Jubilate’ a great song to wake up the people, who might be already be lethargic due to a sumptuous dinner. The next song or Lied was ‘Es ist ein Ros’ entsprungen’ composed by Michael Praetorius. We’d scrapped ‘Adeste fideles’ in lieu of ‘Adiemus’ composed by Karl Jenkins and sang it for the first time. I like the crescendo in the part ‘Anamana coole rawe…’You can experience this great feeling and notice your blood pressure going up, the released hormones surging in your blood stream. Ah, music knows no bounds. The audience goes with you as you transcend to new heights in the course of the Liederabend.

Our next song was ‘La le lu’ composed by Heino Gaze, which is actually a lullaby for the young and old. It is an evergreen in the German-speaking world of South Tyrol, Switzerland, Austria and Germany, and you hear it quite a few times. By this time we had the smiling and applauding audience on our side. After that we chose to sing a song made popular by Reinhard May ‘Über den Wolken’, which means ‘Above the Clouds.’ The song gives you the Top Gun feeling with the sound of the jet starting, accelerating and taking off. The wind is blowing from the north-east and you’re on your starting tarmac 03, the jet shoots past leaving a thundering sound in your ears, the wet asphalt vibrates, the rain is like a veil, till your jet leaves the airstrip and heads for the skies. This song is a hit among the pilots of the Lufthansa and the Luftwaffe and, of course, among aviation fans.

After Reinhard Mey’s Lied we were unanimous and sang ‘I will follow him’ composed by J.W. Stole. We sang it with gusto in a very Badische German accent. It sounded like: I ‘laff’ him. Whoopie Goldberg would have got a kick out of it with her ‘Sister Act.’

We finished off the evening with a creamy song composed by the popular Austrian Udo Jürgens ‘Aber bitte mit Sahne.’ We had the otherwise conservative Kappeler audience raving with this song. The brass orchestra of the Musikverein Freiburg-Kappel then took over under the conductor of Manfred Preiss, a stiff, balded guy with a good command of his charges and in the initial phase he marched off with a Lied composed by John Williams ‘Concert March from 1941,’ followed by Jean Sibelius’ Finlandia Op.26, No.7, then Three Celtic Dances (Reel, Air, Jig) .It was wonderful music with excellent changes in rhythm and texture. The next was slections from ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ Jerry Bock’s ‘Anateva’ followed by Sven van Calster’s ‘Via Aurelia.’ In this music you could literally see and hear the sounds of horses cantering along the Italian countryside. The last song was Willy Fransen’s ‘Adios Havana’ with catchy a composition from Cuba that ended with a hot samba rhythm.

It’s always pleasant to fraternise with the locals from Kappel and the surrounding areas of Littenweiler, Buchenback, Stegen and the Dreisam Valley. You get to know a lot of people gradually. The Kappeler are a friendly people o speak the Badische dialect and that’s why they call me ‘Sadisch’ which I find rather symbadisch, which means sympathetic. Kappel has pleasant Black Forest surroundings where the brass-band plays the Heimat music, and the people from the local apothecary, bakery, the green grocery, the butchery, the locals who runs the taverns and inns with names like ‘Schutze’ and ‘the Lion’ and ‘Kreuz’ all come to have a drink or a chat in the Festhalle where events are staged.

The singers of the men’s choir Männergesangverein ‘Liederkranz’ Freiburg-Kappel (MGV) were still sitting erect in their chairs with their comrades or spouses. There were candles flickering on the tables with coloured metallic balls and pine leaves heralding that it was Christmastime. There were people drinking apple or orange juices, sekt, beer, mineral water. Some were relishing their wurst, hot dogs with buns but all eyes were fixed towards the stage. The Männergesangsverein (MGV) bade farewell to its young conductor Felix Rosskopp who has decided to live in Offenburg where he’ll be working as a music teacher, and he received a picture book about lovely Kappel, an envelope with money and a painting of Kappel. He seemed delighted, and I couldn’t help adding that it had been a pleasure to sing under his guidance He’d brought his fiancee with him, a decent brunette who also liked music and aired her views.

Welcome to the Schwarzwald, the fair town of Kappel and the Männergesangsverein (MGV).

About the Author:

Satis Shroff is a prolific writer and teaches Creative Writing at the Albert Ludwig University of Freiburg. http://www.zfs.uni-freiburg.de/zfs/dozent/lehrbeauftragte4/index_html/#shroff. He is a lecturer, poet and writer and the published author of five books: Im Schatten des Himalaya (book of poems in German), Through Nepalese Eyes (travelogue), Katmandu, Katmandu (poetry and prose anthology by Nepalese authors, edited by Satis Shroff), and two language books on the Nepalese language for DSE (Deutsche Stiftung für Entwicklungsdienst) & Horlemannverlag. He has written three feature articles in the Munich-based Nelles Verlag’s ‘Nepal’ on the Himalayan Kingdom’s Gurkhas, sacred mountains and Nepalese symbols and on Hinduism in ‘Nepal: Myths & Realities (Book Faith India) and his poem ‘Mental Molotovs’ was published in epd-Entwicklungsdienst (Frankfurt). His lyrical works have been published in literary poetry sites: Slow Trains, International Zeitschrift, World Poetry Society (WPS), New Writing North, Muses Review, The Megaphone, Pen Himalaya, Interpoetry. He is a member of “Writers of Peace,” poets, essayists, novelists (PEN), World Poetry Society (WPS) and The Asian Writer.

Satis Shroff is based in Freiburg (poems, fiction, non-fiction) and also writes on ecological, ethno-medical, culture-ethnological themes. He has studied Zoology and Botany in Nepal, Medicine and Social Sciences in Germany and Creative Writing in Freiburg and the United Kingdom. He describes himself as a mediator between western and eastern cultures and sees his future as a writer and poet. Since literature is one of the most important means of cross-cultural learning, he is dedicated to promoting and creating awareness for Creative Writing and transcultural togetherness in his writings, and in preserving an attitude of Miteinander in this world. He lectures in Basle (Switzerland) and in Germany at the Academy for Medical Professions (University Klinikum Freiburg) and the Center for Key Qualifications (University of Freiburg, where he is a Lehrbeauftragter for Creative Writing at the ZfS Uni Freiburg). Satis Shroff was awarded the German Academic Exchange Prize.


Copyright © 2009, Satis Shroff. You may republish this article online provided you keep the byline, the author's note, and the active hyperlinks.

HAUNTING HINDUKUSH (Satis Shroff, Freiburg-Kappel)

The King Who Was Expelled (Satis Shroff)

King Amanullah returned
Ecstatic,
From a tour to Europe
And the Near East.
He ordered the modernization
Of Afghanistan,
Along the lines
Of Kemal in Turkey.
His majesty said:
'I want monogamy,
European clothing,
Abolition of women's veils.'
The people rejoiced
In the streets of Kabul.
The Mullahs revolted.
The king was expelled.
That was 1928.

* * *
They Shot the King (Satis Shroff)

General Nadir Shah
Became the King of Afghanistan,
With a little help,
From his British friends.
He brought reforms.
They shot him in 1933.

* * *
Pakhtunistan Dreams (Satis Shroff)

Mohammed Zahir became
The next king of Afghanistan.
'I have a dream
Of a Pakhtunistan,
A bigger country which can rule
The Pathans in Western Pakistan.
To the west of the river Indus.'
The Pakistanis weren't amused,
And politely refused it.

* * *

THE HINDUKUSH (Satis Shroff)

It's Volkstrauertag
Death through war,
Gewaltherrschaft,
Go through your mind.
It's 2009,
Peace at last?

The victims of wars,
Memorials with mourning choirs,
Weeping war widows, orphans,
Wreaths and flowers for the dead.
The fire brigade stands at attention.
Uniforms,
Stiff humans
With eyes moving,
To take in the mourning.
In Freiburg-Kappel we sing
A Russian song,
To remember
The sons and husbands of Freiburg-Kappel
Who didn't return.

Ninety years ago,
The Constitution of Weimar.
Germany's Fundamental Laws,
Proclaimed sixty years ago.
The ugly Berlin wall
Fell twenty years ago.
The Second World War,
Began seventy years ago.

Alas, young Teutonic widows
Still cry today
In Germany,
For young husbands
Who died
And still die,
In the killing fields
Of the Hindukush,

There's a war
In far off Afghanistan.
The grandfather died
For a totalitarian regime.
The grandson dies today
For a democratic idea.

We Germans train the police
In the Hindukush.
What happens when they run
Over to the Talibans?
Islam binds the people
In the Hindukush.
What have we to offer?

Is war capitulation,
Against the forces of evil?
People who are beaten, tortured
When their ethnicity
And genes differ,
When people with illness or disability,
Are meted injustice,
Stamped as 'unworthy of life.'
There are those who faced
A firing squad,
When they defied
The rule of power,
Clutched to their beliefs,
Their pure conscience.

You can't change the past.
What has happened,
Has happened.
Don't close your eyes
To the hoary past,
Lest you be blind
To the present,
And the future.

It's not the Third World,
Where ideologies,
Fundamentalists,
Terror
Find their breeding grounds.
Rightist ideology
Is still mushrooming,
In the streets of Berlin,
Vienna and Bern.
The 'others' are still
Being terrorized,
Beaten, stabbed and kicked
In broad daylight.

Freedom and forgiveness,
Within and without,
Where art thou?
He who searches
Finds hope,
Tolerance,
Empathy
And dignity,
For there are enough
Righteous, honest,
Spiritual people with integrity
Who care about others.

* * *

TWITTERS FROM THE BLACK FOREST (Satis Shroff)

The Talibans have persuaded
The Pathans, Pashtoons,
And other warring tribes,
To ignore their differences,
And unite to fight the infidels
From the West.
US citizens say:
'America can't afford
Obama's Afghan war.
Hey Big Spender, Obama,
Thirty-five billion dollars
To blow up.
Don't Americans
Need the money
Back home?

* * *
I'll Bring You Back (Satis Shroff)

The faces of the rookie cadets
At Westpoint
Look tired.
'30 000 only' says Obama,
'Till May 2010,
And I'll bring you back.'
The question is:
In a coffin
Or as a hero?

***
Understanding Afghanistan (Satis Shroff)
What happens
When Obama, Merkel
And the Nato have left Kabul?
It wasn't America's war anyway.
Is it the Nato's future war?
Bin Laden's at large.
The enemy is invisible.
Airstrikes kill
Only women and children.
Do we really understand
Afghanistan?
Or is it only
Our thought
Of what Afghanistan
Ought to be.

* * *
Under the Shadow of the Hindukush (Satis Shroff)

John Mc Cain wishes
To break the will
Of the Talibans.
That's how wars are won,
From the Westpoint view
If you announce
When the troops will leave,
The Talis will just wait
And drink Darjeeling tea
Under the shadow
Of the Hindukush.

* * *
No Soldiers, Please (Satis Shroff)

Germany's Guido Westerwelle,
Praised the decision to withdraw
From the Hindukush.
'Police officers for Afghans
Is okay,'
Says Birgit Homburger FDP,
'But no soldiers, please.'

* * *
Party Crashing In the White House (Satis Shroff)

You mean you can
Party crash
Right up to Obama
In the White House?
Mark Sullivan and his men
Were blended
By a charming blonde
Socialite.

To me
It was like in Bonn,
Where an elderly German lady,
Dressed up like a Baroness,
Cut an excellent figure,
Till the chief of the Bonner police
Confided to me,
She was a commoner,
A pensioned lady,
Out for a tete´-a-tete´
With King Birendra
Of Nepal.

Where there's a will
There seems to be
A way.


Ach, Helvetia you've Done it Again (Satis Shroff)

The Bairam celebrations
Are long over,
And Helvetia has caught
The Islamic world
By surprise.

The Swiss folk have dismissed
The minaret 'missile' issue.
Building churches are still forbidden
In many Muslim countries.
The Catholic Swiss have spoken
And won the day.
If more countries would listen to
And respect their own folk.
Ach, Helvetia,
You've done it again.

* * *
The Word of the Year (Satis Shroff)

Härtzen is the word of the year
In good olde Germany.
It means:
To be jobless,
Hanging around,
Loitering
Without much money
In your purse.
It comes from Hartz Four,
A program
For the jobless
And the poor.

But if a blonde German girl says:
'You're bam,'
Take it easy.
It means you're cool.

In case you're a banker
And someone calls you a 'Bankster,'
It isn't a compliment.
It implies
The speculative bank business
You've been doing.
A banker
Who's a gangster.

(c)satisshroff,germany 2009

(c)satisshroff,germany 2009



HAUNTING HINDUKUSH (Satis Shroff, Freiburg-Kappel)

The King Who Was Expelled (Satis Shroff)

King Amanullah returned
Ecstatic,
From a tour to Europe
And the Near East.
He ordered the modernization
Of Afghanistan,
Along the lines
Of Kemal in Turkey.
His majesty said:
'I want monogamy,
European clothing,
Abolition of women's veils.'
The people rejoiced
In the streets of Kabul.
The Mullahs revolted.
The king was expelled.
That was 1928.

* * *
They Shot the King (Satis Shroff)

General Nadir Shah
Became the King of Afghanistan,
With a little help,
From his British friends.
He brought reforms.
They shot him in 1933.

* * *
Pakhtunistan Dreams (Satis Shroff)

Mohammed Zahir became
The next king of Afghanistan.
'I have a dream
Of a Pakhtunistan,
A bigger country which can rule
The Pathans in Western Pakistan.
To the west of the river Indus.'
The Pakistanis weren't amused,
And politely refused it.

* * *

THE HINDUKUSH (Satis Shroff)

It's Volkstrauertag
Death through war,
Gewaltherrschaft,
Go through your mind.
It's 2009,
Peace at last?

The victims of wars,
Memorials with mourning choirs,
Weeping war widows, orphans,
Wreaths and flowers for the dead.
The fire brigade stands at attention.
Uniforms,
Stiff humans
With eyes moving,
To take in the mourning.
In Freiburg-Kappel we sing
A Russian song,
To remember
The sons and husbands of Freiburg-Kappel
Who didn't return.

Ninety years ago,
The Constitution of Weimar.
Germany's Fundamental Laws,
Proclaimed sixty years ago.
The ugly Berlin wall
Fell twenty years ago.
The Second World War,
Began seventy years ago.

Alas, young Teutonic widows
Still cry today
In Germany,
For young husbands
Who died
And still die,
In the killing fields
Of the Hindukush,

There's a war
In far off Afghanistan.
The grandfather died
For a totalitarian regime.
The grandson dies today
For a democratic idea.

We Germans train the police
In the Hindukush.
What happens when they run
Over to the Talibans?
Islam binds the people
In the Hindukush.
What have we to offer?

Is war capitulation,
Against the forces of evil?
People who are beaten, tortured
When their ethnicity
And genes differ,
When people with illness or disability,
Are meted injustice,
Stamped as 'unworthy of life.'
There are those who faced
A firing squad,
When they defied
The rule of power,
Clutched to their beliefs,
Their pure conscience.

You can't change the past.
What has happened,
Has happened.
Don't close your eyes
To the hoary past,
Lest you be blind
To the present,
And the future.

It's not the Third World,
Where ideologies,
Fundamentalists,
Terror
Find their breeding grounds.
Rightist ideology
Is still mushrooming,
In the streets of Berlin,
Vienna and Bern.
The 'others' are still
Being terrorized,
Beaten, stabbed and kicked
In broad daylight.

Freedom and forgiveness,
Within and without,
Where art thou?
He who searches
Finds hope,
Tolerance,
Empathy
And dignity,
For there are enough
Righteous, honest,
Spiritual people with integrity
Who care about others.

* * *

TWITTERS FROM THE BLACK FOREST (Satis Shroff)

The Talibans have persuaded
The Pathans, Pashtoons,
And other warring tribes,
To ignore their differences,
And unite to fight the infidels
From the West.
US citizens say:
'America can't afford
Obama's Afghan war.
Hey Big Spender, Obama,
Thirty-five billion dollars
To blow up.
Don't Americans
Need the money
Back home?

* * *
I'll Bring You Back (Satis Shroff)

The faces of the rookie cadets
At Westpoint
Look tired.
'30 000 only' says Obama,
'Till May 2010,
And I'll bring you back.'
The question is:
In a coffin
Or as a hero?

***
Understanding Afghanistan (Satis Shroff)

What happens
When Obama, Merkel
And the Nato have left Kabul?
It wasn't America's war anyway.
Is it the Nato's future war?
Bin Laden's at large.
The enemy is invisible.
Airstrikes kill
Only women and children.
Do we really understand
Afghanistan?
Or is it only
Our thought
Of what Afghanistan
Ought to be.

* * *
Under the Shadow of the Hindukush (Satis Shroff)

John Mc Cain wishes
To break the will
Of the Talibans.
That's how wars are won,
From the Westpoint view
If you announce
When the troops will leave,
The Talis will just wait
And drink Darjeeling tea
Under the shadow
Of the Hindukush.

* * *
No Soldiers, Please (Satis Shroff)

Germany's Guido Westerwelle,
Praised the decision to withdraw
From the Hindukush.
'Police officers for Afghans
Is okay,'
Says Birgit Homburger FDP,
'But no soldiers, please.'

* * *
Party Crashing In the White House (Satis Shroff)

You mean you can
Party crash
Right up to Obama
In the White House?
Mark Sullivan and his men
Were blended
By a charming blonde
Socialite.

To me
It was like in Bonn,
Where an elderly German lady,
Dressed up like a Baroness,
Cut an excellent figure,
Till the chief of the Bonner police
Confided to me,
She was a commoner,
A pensioned lady,
Out for a tete´-a-tete´
With King Birendra
Of Nepal.

Where there's a will
There seems to be
A way.


Ach, Helvetia you've Done it Again (Satis Shroff)

The Bairam celebrations
Are long over,
And Helvetia has caught
The Islamic world
By surprise.

The Swiss folk have dismissed
The minaret 'missile' issue.
Building churches are still forbidden
In many Muslim countries.
The Catholic Swiss have spoken
And won the day.
If more countries would listen to
And respect their own folk.
Ach, Helvetia,
You've done it again.

* * *
The Word of the Year (Satis Shroff)

Härtzen is the word of the year
In good olde Germany.
It means:
To be jobless,
Hanging around,
Loitering
Without much money
In your purse.
It comes from Hartz Four,
A program
For the jobless
And the poor.

But if a blonde German girl says:
'You're bam,'
Take it easy.
It means you're cool.

In case you're a banker
And someone calls you a 'Bankster,'
It isn't a compliment.
It implies
The speculative bank business
You've been doing.
A banker
Who's a gangster.

MOON OVER THE ARABIAN SEA (Satis Shroff, Freiburg-Kappel)

Surrounded by the greyish clouds,
I see a full moon
Glowing in the Prussian blue sky.
I walk to the Gateway of India,
Look beyond,
Where the breakers
Thrash against Mumbai’s shore.

Waves from the Arabian Sea,
That have brought pirates,
Islamic invaders,
Warships of colonial powers
From foreign shores.
Goa, Pondicherry,
Calcutta,
Become household words,
In Portugal, France and Britain.

A warm reassuring breeze
Whispers by.
Gandhi’s dreams have come true,
The British have come true,
The British, French and Portugese
Have left the shores
Of Hindustan.
Tourists now spend their money
On sightseeing:
Corpses smouldering
At the ghats,
Candlelight dinners
In Rajput palaces,
Armies of beggars
Along the footpaths,
Slumdogs
Who won’t be millionaires.

The rich dream of more dollars,
At the cost of construction workers,
Underpaid and exploited.
The poor dalits cling
To their dreams at night,
For dreams are not forbidden
And are as free,
As the bad air you breathe.

In my thoughts,
A heavenly Apsara appears,
Dances and sings,
Her heavenly song.

My reverie is broken
By the hooting
Of a white ocean liner,
Streaking above
The ripples of the sea.

* * *

THE POETRY OF EXISTENCE (Satis Shroff, Freiburg-Kappel)

What a boon,
A peaceful day
Without human cries,
Pent up emotions,
Banging doors,
Crashing cutlery,
Loud stereo songs,
Intrusive MP3s
Belting out Sido,
Bushido, 50 Cent.

A tranquil day
Means a lot to humans.
To immerse oneself
In a book,
Is to take time
From the bustle
Of everyday life.
Even though it’s
Another person’s life
You read about.

Is the hero courageous,
Or is he cowardly?
Does he tell lies
Or is he loyal?
Does he carry a weapon
Like Ian Flemming’s hero?
Or are words his weapon?

Time flies:
A stack of dishes to clean,
There’s dust on the floor,
A meal to cook.
What did you say?
Time and tide,
Waits for no one.

* * *

THE JOY OF DANCING (Satis Shroff)

The first strokes of the music
And your brain tells you
What dance it belongs to.

You’re already underway,
With your beautiful partner,
Even before the others awake,
On the dance floor,
Gliding gently in tact.
That’s creativity for you.

The more you dance
The more you enjoy.
You know there are people around you,
In evening gowns and dinner jackets,
Sipping their champagne,
Sekt or red wine.

Nodding,
Doing minimal gyrations,
Smiling and feeling good,
Between morsels of caviar.

As the evening advances,
You feel ecstatic,
In your mind
You’re doing fine.

Ah, there’s epinephrine
Surging in your blood.
Your heart is beating faster,
Your legwork is not bad,
You smile at your partner,
Isn’t life delightful?

* * *

A Handkerchief (Satis Shroff)

What is a handkerchief,
But a piece of cloth,
Meant to wipe
A weeping widow’s tears,
Or the fluid from the nose,
When you’ve caught the cold.

A handkerchief can mean,
The loneliness of humans,
At the face of loss,
In cafes, Bahnhofs,
Airports and bus-stations,
Operas, theatres,
Cinemas and plays
Of this worldly stage.

A handkerchief
Brings people together,
Empathy emanates
Between strangers.
We show we are humans,
With emotions
And not zombies.

Sometimes,
Even in public
We tremble,
Tears roll down
Our cheeks,
As we try to keep
A stiff upper lip.



About the Author: Satis Shroff is a prolific writer and teaches Creative Writing at the Albert Ludwig University of Freiburg. He is the published author of three books on www.Lulu.com: Im Schatten des Himalaya (book of poems in German), Through Nepalese Eyes (travelgue), Katmandu, Katmandu (poetry and prose anthology by Nepalese authors, edited by Satis Shroff). His lyrical works have been published in literary poetry sites: Slow Trains, International Zeitschrift, World Poetry Society (WPS), New Writing North, Muses Review, The Megaphone, The Megaphone, Pen Himalaya, Interpoetry. Satis Shroff is a member of “Writers of Peace”, poets, essayists, novelists (PEN), World Poetry Society (WPS) and The Asian Writer. Satis Shroff is a poet and writer based in Freiburg (poems, fiction, non-fiction) who also writes on ecological, ethno-medical, culture-ethnological themes. He has studied Zoology and Botany in Nepal, Medicine and Social Sciences in Germany and Creative Writing in Freiburg and the United Kingdom. He describes himself as a mediator between western and eastern cultures and sees his future as a writer and poet. Since literature is one of the most important means of cross-cultural learning, he is dedicated to promoting and creating awareness for Creative Writing and transcultural togetherness in his writings, and in preserving an attitude of Miteinander in this world. He lectures in Basle (Switzerland) and in Germany at the Akademie für medizinische Berufe (University Klinikum Freiburg) and the Zentrum für Schlüsselqualifikationen (University of Freiburg). Satis Shroff was awarded the German Academic Exchange Prize.

© 2009, Satis Shroff. You may republish this article online provided you keep the byline, the author's note, and the active hyperlinks.

(c) satisshroff,freiburg-kappel,germany

(c)Foto stefanheinz,germany


MOON OVER THE ARABIAN SEA (Satis Shroff, Freiburg-Kappel)

Surrounded by the greyish clouds,
I see a full moon
Glowing in the Prussian blue sky.
I walk to the Gateway of India,
Look beyond,
Where the breakers
Thrash against Mumbai’s shore.

Waves from the Arabian Sea,
That have brought pirates,
Islamic invaders,
Warships of colonial powers
From foreign shores.
Goa, Pondicherry,
Calcutta,
Become household words,
In Portugal, France and Britain.

A warm reassuring breeze
Whispers by.
Gandhi’s dreams have come true,
The British have come true,
The British, French and Portugese
Have left the shores
Of Hindustan.
Tourists now spend their money
On sightseeing:
Corpses smouldering
At the ghats,
Candlelight dinners
In Rajput palaces,
Armies of beggars
Along the footpaths,
Slumdogs
Who won’t be millionaires.

The rich dream of more dollars,
At the cost of construction workers,
Underpaid and exploited.
The poor dalits cling
To their dreams at night,
For dreams are not forbidden
And are as free,
As the bad air you breathe.

In my thoughts,
A heavenly Apsara appears,
Dances and sings,
Her heavenly song.

My reverie is broken
By the hooting
Of a white ocean liner,
Streaking above
The ripples of the sea.

* * *

THE POETRY OF EXISTENCE (Satis Shroff, Freiburg-Kappel)

What a boon,
A peaceful day
Without human cries,
Pent up emotions,
Banging doors,
Crashing cutlery,
Loud stereo songs,
Intrusive MP3s
Belting out Sido,
Bushido, 50 Cent.

A tranquil day
Means a lot to humans.
To immerse oneself
In a book,
Is to take time
From the bustle
Of everyday life.
Even though it’s
Another person’s life
You read about.

Is the hero courageous,
Or is he cowardly?
Does he tell lies
Or is he loyal?
Does he carry a weapon
Like Ian Flemming’s hero?
Or are words his weapon?

Time flies:
A stack of dishes to clean,
There’s dust on the floor,
A meal to cook.
What did you say?
Time and tide,
Waits for no one.

* * *

THE JOY OF DANCING (Satis Shroff)

The first strokes of the music
And your brain tells you
What dance it belongs to.

You’re already underway,
With your beautiful partner,
Even before the others awake,
On the dance floor,
Gliding gently in tact.
That’s creativity for you.

The more you dance
The more you enjoy.
You know there are people around you,
In evening gowns and dinner jackets,
Sipping their champagne,
Sekt or red wine.

Nodding,
Doing minimal gyrations,
Smiling and feeling good,
Between morsels of caviar.

As the evening advances,
You feel ecstatic,
In your mind
You’re doing fine.

Ah, there’s epinephrine
Surging in your blood.
Your heart is beating faster,
Your legwork is not bad,
You smile at your partner,
Isn’t life delightful?

* * *

A Handkerchief (Satis Shroff)
What is a handkerchief,
But a piece of cloth,
Meant to wipe
A weeping widow’s tears,
Or the fluid from the nose,
When you’ve caught the cold.

A handkerchief can mean,
The loneliness of humans,
At the face of loss,
In cafes, Bahnhofs,
Airports and bus-stations,
Operas, theatres,
Cinemas and plays
Of this worldly stage.

A handkerchief
Brings people together,
Empathy emanates
Between strangers.
We show we are humans,
With emotions
And not zombies.

Sometimes,
Even in public
We tremble,
Tears roll down
Our cheeks,
As we try to keep
A stiff upper lip.



About the Author:
Satis Shroff is a prolific writer and teaches Creative Writing at the Albert Ludwig University of Freiburg. He is the published author of three books on www.Lulu.com: Im Schatten des Himalaya (book of poems in German), Through Nepalese Eyes (travelgue), Katmandu, Katmandu (poetry and prose anthology by Nepalese authors, edited by Satis Shroff). His lyrical works have been published in literary poetry sites: Slow Trains, International Zeitschrift, World Poetry Society (WPS), New Writing North, Muses Review, The Megaphone, The Megaphone, Pen Himalaya, Interpoetry. Satis Shroff is a member of “Writers of Peace”, poets, essayists, novelists (PEN), World Poetry Society (WPS) and The Asian Writer. Satis Shroff is a poet and writer based in Freiburg (poems, fiction, non-fiction) who also writes on ecological, ethno-medical, culture-ethnological themes. He has studied Zoology and Botany in Nepal, Medicine and Social Sciences in Germany and Creative Writing in Freiburg and the United Kingdom. He describes himself as a mediator between western and eastern cultures and sees his future as a writer and poet. Since literature is one of the most important means of cross-cultural learning, he is dedicated to promoting and creating awareness for Creative Writing and transcultural togetherness in his writings, and in preserving an attitude of Miteinander in this world. He lectures in Basle (Switzerland) and in Germany at the Akademie für medizinische Berufe (University Klinikum Freiburg) and the Zentrum für Schlüsselqualifikationen (University of Freiburg). Satis Shroff was awarded the German Academic Exchange Prize.
© 2009, Satis Shroff. You may republish this article online provided you keep the byline, the author's note, and the active hyperlinks.