18.03.16

"blauer Himmel" in vielen Sprachen

blauer Himmel –
diese Wolke
ist mein

blue sky—
this cloud
is mine

spéir ghorm –
is liomsa
an scamall seo

blae lift –
this clud
belangs tae me

blaue Himel –
diä Wulche
isch miär

ciel bleu – 
ce nuage
est le mien

Vilya luine -
fanya sina
ninya ná

fᴂger lyft -
Þis wolcen
is min

Tschiel blau -
quel nivel
è il mes

Cielo azul -
esta nube
es mia

Cielo azzurro -
questa nuvola
è la mia

שמיים כחולים ־
הענן הזה
הוא שלי

chamayim kaholim
ha aanan hase
hu sheli

blaua Hümmi –
de Woik’n
is meine

där blaue Himmä –
de Wolke da
is meine

cer albastru -
norul acesta
e al meu

hic nimbus
in caelo caeruleo
meus est

'eng SuD
chalDaq
vlghaj

బ్లూ స్కై
ఈ క్లౌడ్
నా ఉంది

Голубое небо
это облако
мое

olympos benetos
tauta nephelê
emê estin

Blauor hemml -
diehse vollge
iss meenä

blå himmel
den molnet
tillhör mig

blu' n Heven
de Wulk
hört mi

blaua Himme
de Woikn
is mei

blaua Himmel
die Wolk doo
das iss maini

błękitne niebo –
ta chmura
jest moja
 
Deutsch, Englisch: Ralf Bröker
Scots: John McDonald 
Irisch: Gabriel Rosenstock
Schweizerdeutsch: Diana Michel-Erne
Französisch/Elbenlatein/Altenglisch/Rumantsch Grischun/Spanisch/Italienisch/Hebräisch: Valeria Barouch
Österreichisch: Sonja Raab
Mansfeldisch: Ramona Linke
Rumänisch: Ioana Dinescu
Latein/Klingonisch/Telugu/Russisch/Griechisch/Leibzschor Schnahbl: Heinz Schneemann
Schwedisch/Holsteiner Platt: Hildegard Dohrendorf
Bayerisch: Kle Mens
Saarländisch: Eva Limbach
Polnisch: Grazyna Werner

aus: Kreischen der Kreide/the screech of chalk, red moon press, 2016

http://www.redmoonpress.com/catalog/product_info.php?cPath=32&products_id=216

19.02.16

Back to work ...

Roberta Beary, die große amerikanische Haibun- und Haiku-Autorin, schreibt: "Ralf Brökers Debüt-Sammlung von Haiku und Tanka Kreischen der Kreide/the screech of chalk nimmt den Leser mit auf eine lyrische Reise durch die universellen Wahrheiten des Alltags. Gleichzeitig beleuchtet das Buch mit seinen Kurzgedichten die technikgetriebene Entfremdung in der modernen Familie. Ein talentierter Dichter, der in Deutsch und Englisch schreibt. Wir haben darüber hinaus das Glück, dass Bröker seine ursprünglich deutschsprachigen Haiku und Tanka für diese geballte und dabei starke Ausgaben selbst ins Englische übertragen hat."

“Ralf Bröker’s debut haiku and tanka collection Kreischen der Kreide / the screech of chalk takes the reader on a poetic journey that traverses the universal truths of everyday life. At the same time this book of small poems highlights the technology-driven alienation in the modern family. A gifted poet who writes both in German and English, we are fortunate to have Bröker’s own English translations of his original German haiku and tanka in this concise yet powerful volume.” — Roberta Beary

Online Order (international): Red Moon Press
Mail Order (Germany): me
und in der Buchhandlung Steffers, Ochtrup

08.09.14

c l o s e d

"Haiku has become the hiking song melody of my life. It helps me watch the world and it carries my mindfulness. Haiku gives me pencil, paper, and words to notice my here and now. It enables me to deal with my past and to be curious about the future. In rare moments my haiku are more than I am; it allows other people to get to know me a bit. Of course, I don’t see and can’t find my way most of the day. But I am not afraid: I hope to be a whistling haiku pupil for the rest of my life."

from: Blogging Along Tobacco Road

03.07.13

Haiku From German Tongues and Other Updates ...

Sorry for not posting here this long time. I have been busy with the German Haiku Society's jubilee, the relaunch of Haiku From German Tongues and a new blog called VerSuch.

At the moment I try to make up my mind how to continue publishing my own work. Is it better to note every single publication? Shall I combine German and English work?

I must admit: difficult decision ...

14.12.12




POCK
the windshield saves
from the insect



between the muses pine smooches pine



note alt tab swoodoo alt tab
 


Out

Courageously, the needle finds her way through the skin. Reaches finally this black spot under the fingernail. Pushing now the hurting something slowly toward the fingertip.

It could be a small rose prickle. Or a tiny piece of splinter. Whatever! It came out. And she is tucked into the drapes again.

Ascension Day
Mom spits
into her handkerchief




 




walking the Royal Mile
with eyes
on my now







alumni reunion
the storks' nest
empty






somewhere in the mist
a dog barks
at me




our bedroom
the red light
booms into







sweetheart's moans 
after Pilates lesson
a glass of birch sap



Easter walk
grasping an idea
and stumbling
 






Saturday renku senryu

flea market morning
heaven provides
support

leaned on his walking stick

he talks with a neighbor
 

R. B./Gillena Cox, TT






the eye I see
tolls red tolls red
to hell








so hot today
but the apple
I picked 


Assumption Day
jet fighters land
at the fairground


my thoughts
wander into the white
of a wall



election day
my shadow meditates 
outside the cave