jesus Gustave Dore (1832-1883)

POEM ABOUT CHRIST
Reproduction by Mantegna or Holbein – where the body is like a landscape.
We are accustomed to distorted forms,
To a dead appearance, and this landscape is ours.

Again we crucify Christ,
And not Kazantzakis novel
Do we read with fervent zeal.
Christ is dead – and that is our flaw.

Christ lives – and the heavens above us
With a sum of radiance – Christ is alive –
Affirm.
We are gentle with sins,
We do not gather spiritual roses.

The Jordan waters shine
With fiery and golden brocade,
And baptism embraces
The Son of Man – stand firm!

The path to deification is not repeated,
For the Son of Man given to us.
In our deceptive modern times –
It would be so absurd. Go forth with Him!

A dove in the sky gently turns golden.
The Son of God goes forth to preach.
Black faces all around, dull,
An empty whirl of pale deeds.

How can he, born in a cave,
Acquire royal power and dense rule?
The Magi rode, believing in the event.
Hades hungrily craved sacrifices in vain.

They rode through the blue – and round –
Snow on camels and donkeys.
Shepherds went – the night bloomed absurdly,
With an incomprehensible joy in their hearts.

... in the office, a scam is underway,
A fat boss rubs his hands together.
There are measures of crime, after all.
Is Christ born in every heart?

Master Eckhart said: You could be born
In Bethlehem a thousand times –
If it does not happen in your heart
That birth – no story worth telling.

Here is the flight to Egypt, key event,
For the angel proclaimed it.
Whats next? Does your heart worry
Thinking about events? Or on the East
Do you comprehend Christs wisdom of light?
But gospel verses will remain silent. However, there is a question.

Here is the wondrous catch -
The Lord acquired disciples.
Temptation in the wilderness –
Light canceled that word.
We know many words, believing that
These are united with the eternal Word of Words.
Who now is enthralled by vanity?
Few are ready.

... wars raged fiercely against reality,
Wars where blood was spilled for faith.
Arrows, spears, as if life – a banality,
And love is distorted around.

Christ enters Jerusalem,
Here he cleanses the temple from the greedy.
The sound of the Last Supper – true,
Such things are unknown to us.
Who was Joseph of Arimathea,
Who collected Christs blood in a chalice?
Having fulfilled his duty of being,
In that bitter, extremely difficult hour.
You are great, Christ – I know, I know,
I – a writer – am too small.
And – alas, I do not suffer for you,
But I am tormented by the sum of evil.

You are great – to you I turn,
Life-giving word! Revive
My soul, if I cannot comprehend it –
If it is in sins, almost in blood?

A garden, full of lights, and torches burn
In the hands of soldiers, and here
Christ is taken, and passions pierce
People – they are full of him, waiting for something.
The trial of Pilate – a trial that is not a trial, really.
He could have sent legionaries
Dressed as Zealots... But this path
Is impossible, even though Pilate yearned
To release such a poor man.
But the law above cannot be changed.

If Christ came from the word,
Then according to the word and events should be.

They flogged him fiercely, mocked him,
And wove a crown of thorns.
And in a crimson cloud, they frolicked
The petty concerns of mortals.

Christ went, he went, bending under the cross,
Blood was being created in capsules of sand.
Holy blood...
Laughter, sharp tales,
Rags, and curiosity – where is love?
The volume of it is above us.
Who gives to beggars today?
Who fears sin? What – not a flame:
Sin is pleasant, it barely burns.
The volume of love is above us.
Christ goes through a labyrinth of torments.
What banner did we raise
Of our ignorance? The true question
Is our ignorance, the ability to see
The essence from the tinsel. Worship!
Here is your rock idol! Rejoice – life is a game.

Christian churches cannot
Heal with love, mend their cracks.
For us its more important, in the morning – yogurt,
And we generally like to live sweetly.
We are holier! We are closer to Christ!
Interchurch dialogue will not happen.
Nothing above the roof we see.
I do not judge – I reflect.
Here.

Here is Christ going, bending under the cross.
Here he is crucified. He rose again. Light shines.
We grow – and create steadily
The garden of life. And there are no alternatives.