Manual Zwei Sonnen am Himmel (German Edition)

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You must not hear my footsteps— soft, softly shut the doors! Die Wetterfahne. Der Wind spielt drinnen mit den Herzen wie auf dem Dach, nur nicht so laut. Was fragen sie nach meinen Schmerzen? Ihr Kind ist eine reiche Braut. In my confusion I thought its whistling mocked this wretched fugitive. He should have noticed sooner the emblem set upon the house; then he would never have tried to look for faithful womanhood within. Indoors the wind plays with hearts as on the roof, but not so loudly. What do they care for my sorrows? Their child is a rich bride. Drops of ice are falling from off my cheeks: did I not notice, then, that I have been crying?


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O tears, my tears, are you so tepid then that you turn to ice like cold morning dew? Soll denn kein Angedenken ich nehmen mit von hier? Wenn meine Schmerzen schweigen, wer sagt mir dann von ihr? Vainly I search in the snow for the footprint she left when arm in arm with me she rambled over the green meadow. I want to kiss the ground, pierce through ice and snow with my hot tears until I see the soil beneath. Where shall I find a blossom, where find green grass?

The flowers are dead, the grass looks so wan. Can there be no keepsake, then, to carry away with me?

Zwei Sonnen am Himmel by Federica de Cesco

When my sorrows fall silent, what shall tell me of her? My heart is as good as frozen; within it her image gazes coldly. If ever my heart thaws again, her image too will melt away. Der Lindenbaum. Die kalten Winde bliesen mir grad ins Angesicht; der Hut flog mir vom Kopfe, ich wendete mich nicht. By the well at the town gate there stands a lime tree; in its shadow I have dreamed full many a sweet dream.

On its bark I have carved full many a loving word. In joy and sorrow it drew me to it again and again. Just now my journey took me past it at dead of night, and even in the darkness I had to close my eyes. The chill winds blew straight in my face: my hat flew off my head. I did not turn back. Many a tear from my eyes has dropped into the snow.

Hallo Halo: warum manchmal eine zweite Sonne am Himmel steht

Its chilly flakes suck thirstily up my burning woe. When the grass begins to shoot, a warm breeze will blow there, and the ice will melt in torrents and the snow will dissolve. Snow, you know of my longing: say, which way will you flow? Just follow my tears: their stream will soon carry you away. You will course the town with them, in and out of cheerful streets. Auf dem Flusse. Mein Herz, in diesem Bache erkennst du nun dein Bild?

You who so merrily babbled, clear, wild stream, how silent you have become: you give no greeting as we part. With hard, stiff hoar you have covered yourself; you lie cold and motionless, stretched out in the sand. On your crust I carve with a sharp stone the name of my beloved and the hour and the day. The day I first met her, the day I went away; round name and figures winds a broken ring.

In this brook, my heart, do you now recognize your likeness? Under its crust is there a roaring torrent too? It is burning hot under both my feet, though I am walking on ice and snow; I would rather not draw breath again until the towers are out of sight. I bruised myself on every stone, so did I hurry out of the town. The crows threw snowballs and hailstones onto my hat from every roof. How otherwise did you welcome me, you town of inconstancy!

At your bright windows sang the lark vying with the nightingale. The plump lime trees were in bloom, the clear streams babbled brightly, and alas, two girlish eyes were glowing! Whenever that day comes to mind, I long to look back once more, long to stumble back again and stand in silence outside her house. How I shall find my way out does not weigh heavily on my mind. I am used to going astray: every path leads to its destination. Every stream will reach the sea; every sorrow too its grave. I only notice now how tired I am, as I lie down to rest. Walking kept my spirits up along an inhospitable road.

My feet did not ask for rest— it was too cold to stand still; my back felt no burden, the storm helped to blow me along. But my limbs will not take their ease, their wounds are burning so. You too, my heart, in struggle and storm so wild and so untamed, now in the stillness feel the serpent within rear up with its searing sting. I dreamed of bright flowers such as blossom in May; I dreamed of green meadows and the calling of birds.

And when the cocks crew, my eyes opened; it was cold and dark, on the roof the ravens croaked. But on the window panes who had been painting leaves? Well may you laugh at the dreamer who saw flowers in winter. I dreamed of love for love, of a fair maiden, of hearts and kisses, of bliss and ecstasy.

German Settings of Ossianic Texts, 1770–1815

And when the cocks crew my heart opened: now all alone I sit here and ponder my dream. I close my eyes again: my heart still beats as warmly. When will you leaves at the window be green?


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When will I hold my darling in my arms? Like a mournful cloud passing through clear sky when through the fir tops a gentle breeze blows, so I wend my way onward with halting step through bright, happy life lonely and ungreeted. Pity the air is so calm, pity the world is so bright! When the storms still howled I was not so miserable. Die Post. Up from the street a posthorn blows. What is it that makes you beat so fast, my heart? The post-coach brings you no letter; then why do you throb so strangely, my heart?

Ah yes, the post comes from the town where I had a best beloved, my heart! Do you just want to peep across and ask how things are going there, my heart? Der greise Kopf. Vom Abendrot zum Morgenlicht ward mancher Kopf zum Greise.

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There was a white coat of frost spread over my hair. It made me think I was already old, which made me very glad. But soon it thawed away and my hair is black again. Now my youthfulness appals me: how far still to the funeral bier! Between dusk and dawn many a head has turned white. Who believes it? Mine has not this whole journey through! Meinst wohl, bald als Beute hier Meinen Leib zu fassen?

A crow was with me coming out of town. Back and forth till now it has flown above my head. Crow, curious creature, will you not forsake me? Have you prey in mind here soon, when you seize my body? After assisting as nurse, Uchida returned to her parents' home, suffering from anemia, high fever and other aftereffects of the bombing.

Nevertheless, she continued to work as a nurse until her retirement. Aya Domenig also used archival footage showing the victims of Hiroshima and demonstrating the destructive power of the bomb on the human body. The black and white material was shot in September and submitted by a journalist from Tokyo who had come without any official support with a group of scientists to record what had happened — the United States authorities noted this immediately and confiscated all the material.

Only in some sequences for the first time were published. The color images were taken in April by the US Army to document the effects of the bombs, but first published in the s. The documentary was filmed at locations in Hiroshima and Fukushima in Japan. Aya Domenig tells in German the fate of her grandfather, the interviews with the protagonists in Japan are in Japanese, and their statements are subtitled in German, French and English. The Swiss documentary film premierred at the Festival del film Locarno on 9 August , [1] [12] and in Japan on occasion of the Hiroshima International Film Festival on 23 November The Swiss newspaper Der Landbote claims: Aya Domenig succeeded the balancing act between personal retelling of the family history and the historical analysis.

It is a universal lesson on a piece of the history that has lost none of its relevance today. With her thirst for action she represents, as it were, the crisis-stricken island nation that time and again evades facing its traumas. In order to endure the future, light has to be shed on the shadows of the past. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Als die Sonne vom Himmel fiel Movie poster in Switzerland.

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Retrieved The Asahi Shimbun. Archived from the original on Der Landbote via sda. President's Secretary's File, Truman Papers". Harry S. Truman Presidential Library and Museum. Festival del film Locarno.

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Aya Domenig. Hiroshima International Film Festival.