Like when you unexpectedly meet the head gardener of love,
and he invites you to drink tea.
And while he's making the tea,
you hear "Riviera" on the radio? by The Frank And Walters.
As fallen out of time,
you look around irritated
and you seem to have forgotten everything.
Feeling like you're in a nursing home and thinking,
the same the daily Bingo - round goes off.
And you forgot the rules again.
Yes, if you are now ´mal no number man is...
Then someone asks you to dance,
and you feel a light blue cheek on yours.
You hesitate, you doubt, you don't know.
Caught in the here and now.
There the head gardener winking at you,
he nods encouragingly: "yes, it's right"
and spontaneously you trust him
and decide to
to see life a little more positive,
more to love
and good things to be.
To say yes to that,
no matter how great.
You've always been in this one easy way to get:
light blue cheeks, a friendly nod,
a cold dog's snout,
Squirrel on the balcony in autumn,
Slippers with Puscheln on them...
...indiscriminately in many ways, always a little too far from the shot
and lost in hops and malt.
And yet it can only be the soulful things-
and are they ever so small -
telling us about easy living,
that enchant us and,
you know what:
So you can't do anything wrong.
And yes, it can be that simple, because:
Cluelessness is a good weapon,
that doesn't hurt and doesn't hit back.
Memories of how as a child some things
for sheer beauty they could hardly bear:
Humans, animals, sensations -
Infants, dog puppies and soap bubbles...
...that's what these simple,
very small things;
and, let's face it,
it's not that different today.
What would you give for it,
once by Carmen Nebel
to be invited for detox tea,
next to the SUV
to have another Icelandic pony in the garage,
even better: a EINHORN !
and finally trust you after all these years,
in a men's skirt on the street.
From "Comme des Garçons" of course,
bought many years ago...
Instead you drink regularly
with your, inevitably, favourite - neighbour
a lonely egg liqueur on ex,
petting reluctantly her too fat hangover
and you don't like yourself again
( the neighbor by the way also not! )
in beige multifunctional clothing
and the seven-eight pants,
especially since you can see that the gray short socks
in the sandals look like shit...
Where was I? Oh, yes, it was about beauty.
Beautiful is Bosque, very beautiful even.
Even if the name speaks of the forest,
this smell reminds me rather, or also,
on a long day by the sea:
the exhausted sun and the residual heat
still damp hair in mild wind
and on the skin a delicate mixture
of water, cleanliness, fine sand, sweat and skin cream.
Ghost ships on the horizon.
And it could also be forest impressions,
not too earthy or even resinous,
rather those of the tender shoots,
that sprout in early spring,
the very mild sweetness of wild berries,
Nectar and honeydew of flowering plants,
the dragonflies attract, fairies or even elves -
with tender noses.
Leaf green, maibowle, woodruff, rice pudding with cinnamon, egg yolk -
everything only hinted at in very slight traces -
it joins together to a very own
and incomparable fragrance.
The impression of satisfaction intended by the house is conveyed;
Trust and affection,
like someone whose skin you like to smell,
because she can give comfort and love.
And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
That her face, at first just ghostly
Turned a whiter shade of pale