Hans-Ulrich Treichel, Three Poems

Banksy, This is a pipe

[My translations from the German of three poems by Hans-Ulrich Treichel: b. 1952; also creative prose and librettos; literary academic]

Running on the Outer Ring

Over the parking lot, the street
down to the river, along the corn field,
between the man-high bushes as always
a car, foggy windscreen, a
bulldozer removing mud, flowering
grasses, wind and rustling, under the
droning bridge water dripping, then again
asphalt, stabs in the chest, rain
in the sky, the parking lot, home.

Chin Up

Chin up, said the hangman
And stop that doom and gloom
Always just moaning and groaning
And never a real scream

Let’s get out of here

OK, let’s go out
into the acidified pastures, with
rattling hearts and new
valves, up into the
sweating trees and finite
with black thoughts,
we can still hear ourselves cough,
the lawn’s fabulous,
the starlings singing in our
labs, and, in the end, what’s
the good of moonlight when
you’ve got all
that electric power.


~ by Peter Lach-Newinsky on April 29, 2012.

2 Responses to “Hans-Ulrich Treichel, Three Poems”

  1. Beautiful post. I presume the Banksy is a play on the Rene Magritte ‘This is not a pipe’ images. I like the poetry, it’s got character.


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