Der Tod, Das Ist - Poem by Heinrich Heine

Beauty Is Hearing A Nightingale Sing Love In Our Sleep Delightful

the young nightingale sings thrilled indifferent to death
the young nightingale sings eternal only of shining new love
the young nightingale sings beauty love sleeps in soft love

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Inspired by the poem 'Der Tod, Das Ist' by the poet Heinrich Heine.
Dedicated to the poet Heinrich Heine. (Report)Reply

Nature Loves The Interplay Between Night And Day

nature loves the gap interplay between night and day
swarms of life living flickering drowning in death
camouflage hiding stalking in heatbeat life pulse day

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Inspired by the poem 'Der Tod, Das Ist' by the poet Heinrich Heine.
Dedicated to the poet Heinrich Heine. (Report)Reply

Remembrance Is A Sacred Flickering Candle Flame

when daylight bright light, life late afternoon sunset fades
when lustre of life, no longer outshines, bright full moon
when the bright light, fades into final darkness, dust gloom
it is time to light a pure white, candle pull down the shades

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Inspired by the poem 'Der Tod, Das Ist' by the poet Heinrich Heine.
Dedicated to the poet Heinrich Heine. (Report)Reply

Life Pooled In Days Spent Life Time Evaporated

death comes fever hot in night sweats wet
death comes creeping cold in nights winter sold
death comes flesh seeking in hot summer heat
death comes taking just before waking morning light;
life pooled in bright daylight countless summer leaves
life pooled in growing seasons learning walking lessons
life pooled in sweeping years long years working rewards
life pooled in sunshine friendships love victories losses;
a night of death a day of life waking sleeping rules all web life
darkness glows in starlight torches night sky burning ember bright
drowning souls swallowed in darkness rivers current sky night;
days spent drowning in light life wick tired burned short in light
days shed life fluttering leaves shed over head in autumn piles
night owl hoots sits awaits leaf running prey as the moon smiles;

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Inspired by the poem 'Der Tod, Das Ist' by the poet Heinrich Heine.
Dedicated to the poet Heinrich Heine. (Report)Reply

Days Spent Drowning In Light Life Wick

days spent drowning in light life wick tired burned short in light
days shed life fluttering leaves shed over head in autumn piles
night owl hoots sits awaits leaf running prey as the moon smiles

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Inspired by the poem 'Der Tod, Das Ist' by the poet Heinrich Heine.
Dedicated to the poet Heinrich Heine. (Report)Reply

Drowning Souls Swallowed In Darkness

a night of death a day of life waking sleeping rules all web life
darkness glows in starlight torches night sky burning ember bright
drowning souls swallowed in darkness rivers current sky night

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Inspired by the poem 'Der Tod, Das Ist' by the poet Heinrich Heine.
Dedicated to the poet Heinrich Heine. (Report)Reply

Life Pooled In Daylight Countless Summer Leaves

life pooled in daylight countless summer leaves
life pooled in growing learning walking lessons
life pooled in years long years working rewards
life pooled in friendships love victories losses

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Inspired by the poem 'Der Tod, Das Ist' by the poet Heinrich Heine.
Dedicated to the poet Heinrich Heine. (Report)Reply

Death Comes Life Taking Not Long Before Dawn

death comes fever hot in night sweats clamping wet
death comes creeping cold in nights winter shiver sold
death comes flesh seeking in hot summer stifling heat
death comes taking just before waking morning light

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Inspired by the poem 'Der Tod, Das Ist' by the poet Heinrich Heine.
Dedicated to the poet Heinrich Heine. (Report)Reply

'Our death is in the cool of night,
Our life is in the pool of day.
The darkness glows, I’m drowning,
Day’s tired me with light.'

loved he play between night and day and drowning in death, continued with 'Over my head in leaves grown deep, '

then the turn of the young nightingale whih sings indifferent to death, which sings only of love, and the beauty of hearing a nightingale sing in our sleep is delightful (Report)Reply