Allzuprivates: Gedichte
von Charles Bukowski

Die Herkunft des US-Literaten Charles Bukowsky (Henk Chinasky) aus Andernach (mehr oder weniger Eifel) animierte mich, zwei Gedichte auf moselfränkisch zu übersetzen und vorzutragen. Es handelt sich um den Südeifler Slang des Moselfränkischen, dem Echternacher Luxemburgischen verwandt. Wer Moselfränkisch nicht kennt oder Bukowskys offene Sprache nicht mag, sollte sich die beiden Gedichte ersparen.

here I am
in the ground
my mouth
open
and
I can't even say
mama,
and
the dogs run by and stop and piss
on my stone; I get it all
except the sun
and my suit is looking
bad
and yesterday
the last of my left
arm gone
very little left, all harp-like
without music.

at least a drunk
in bed with a cigarette
might cause 5 fire
engines and
33 men.

I can't
do
any
thing.

but p.s. -- Hector Richmond in the next
tomb thinks only of Mozart and candy
caterpillars.
he is
very bad
company.

My friend William von Charles Bukowski
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my friend William is a fortunate man:
he lacks the imagination to suffer
he kept his first job
his first wife
can drive a car 50,000 miles
without a brake job

he dances like a swan
and has the prettiest blankest eyes
this side of El Paso

his garden is a paradise
the heels of his shoes are always level
and his handshake is firm

people love him

when my friend William dies
it will hardly be from madness or cancer
he'll walk right past the devil
into heaven

you'll see him at the party tonight
grinning
over his martini
blissful and delightful
as some guy
fucks his wife in the
bathroom