Parzival by the Lake
Long time I looked for you and believed you lost
now I stand mute with joy, grey lake,
in the stillness of the early day and do not dare
to greet you.
Your shape looks tired in the bright robe
your eyes searching the width of the far shore
under the wide barrett, revealing you
as Lord of Peace.
Your arms are weak, your left hand holding the spear, your walking-staff through guiltful years.
The wind turbine, grown together with you, rotates silently in the wind of November.
I come close to you.
Your right hand, tired of the steel sword,
is holding protectively the ark.
Your are ready to expose them on the water
if he is calling you.
The birds take leave of you.
Their flight is your message in the wind.
I came close to you.
View from the Resort Mark Brandenburg, Neuruppin / Brandenburg, over the landing stage at Lake Ruppin.