Hat Kafka überhaupt Gedichte geschrieben?
Meine beiden Lieblinge sind das einmal , weil es was schön trauriges, düsteres hat:
Do not stand by my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake up in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
of quite birds in circling flight.
I am the soft star, that shines at night.
Do not stand by my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die.
Und The Road not Taken von Robert Frost :
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Grüße
Skywalker
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"Film is a disease. And the only antidote to film is more film." - Frank Capra