in the still
by Franz Brookmann
in de stil
fun Franz Brookmann
in de still
by Franz Brookmann

powwow

weyhaa ya
de wind uut 't apene land
schrauelt, huult, kriischt
siin weel un siin klaag'
un lett fadder aadler
siin hilligen schriig
still' wedder-hallen
in dusend seilen
in dusend liver
er pasen
er jumpen
tou 't kloppen
tou 't pukkern
as juemmers
un eiwig
juemmer tou
juemmer tou
in 't unrecht
touhoup daan
dansst sei
dat erinnern
an 't mouderhart
wat juem seker wigt
schriiv't sei er leven
dansst sei er euverleven
mit er seilenschellen
up-flaid mit eirdensmuk
un fer-eddeld mit trosse ougen
strekt sei er seilenfluenk uut
un fleigt d'n schriig achter naa
euver woystland un wolden
euver toppen un gruenden
euver grasland un water
as 'n swarm droumfagels
mit schillern fitjen
tiidloos' gliden
in d'n wind
siin susen
weyhaa ya


powwow
    weyhaa ya
    de wind ut't apene land
    schrault, huult, kriescht
    sien weel un sien klaag
    un let vadder aadler
    sien hilligen schrieg
    still wedderhallen
    in dusend seelen
    in dusend liever
    ehr pasen
    ehr jumpen
    to't kloppen
    to't puckern
    as jümmers
    un ewig
    jümmer to
    jümmer to
    in't unrecht
    tohoop daan
    danßt se
    dat erinnern
    an't moderhart
    wat jüm seker wiggt
    schrievt se ehr leven
    danßt se ehr överleven
    mit ehr seelenschellen
    upfleit mit eerdensmuck
    un vereddelt mit trosse ogen
    streckt se ehr seelenflünk ut
    un fleegt'n schrieg achterna
    över wööstland un wolden
    över toppen un grünnen
    över grasland un water
    as 'n swarm droomvagels
    mit schillern fitjen
    tiedloos glieden
    in'n wind
    sien susen
    weyhaa ya
powwow
    weyhaa ya
    the wind from the open land
    wimpers, howls, screams
    its joy and its complaint
    and makes father eagle's
    sacred call
    echo silently
    in a thousand souls
    in a thousand bodies'
    pacing
    jumping
    to the beating
    to the throbbing
    as ever
    and ever
    on and on
    on and on
    united
    in injustice
    they dance
    their memory
    of the mother's heart
    that rocks them into safety
    they write their lives
    they dance their survival
    with their soul shells
    adorned with earthen finery
    and ennobled with defiant eyes
    they spread their soul wings
    and follow the call
    across desert and woods
    across summits and depths
    across grasslands and water
    like a swarm of dream birds
    with sparkling plumage
    timelessly gliding
    in the wind's
    soughing
    weyhaa ya
English translation by the author

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© 1998, Franz Brookmann
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