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kirsihain – artstravers


I sit at the foot of one of the standard cherry trees and hear the buzzing of the bees in the blossom crown. The heyday is coming to an end. The grass I’m sitting in is quite high and shakes in the wind.

An airplane that has just taken off and is now flying over us into the distance – where to? Rome? Amsterdam? Berlin? Budapest? Prague? Vienna? London? – it temporarily suppresses all ambient noise – Now the humming remains, the bees are buzzing again, over at the border a blackbird is singing. The wind rustles in the grass, the city rustles too, back there on the plain. A gust of wind makes the petals snow in the trembling sea of grass – I feel enchanted, welcome, finally arrived in life. A life consisting of billions and billions of different lives.

Another plane breaks through the sky, heading east. And one more thing, heading south. Vienna, Palermo, maybe.
I practice equanimity. Not. Getting angry at the things I can’t change. Not. Outraged, angry, sad, distressed, frustrated, horrified, disgusted. Instead of this. give away my heart A plane takes off after – at least not to Kiev. Another one, not to Moscow. But other than that, a lot is still possible. My heart. An ambulance that, once the destination reaches the

alarm cancels. my heart scatters A siren again, maybe the police, same procedure, termination abruptly
of the Tuutaatüuta. Two walkers, each with two walking sticks. He goes ahead in red tracksuit, bald, stocky, greets with “bonjour”. I nod
and start to say a word of greeting, but my languages get muddled and nothing comes out of my lips. The woman 20 meters away, a Thai woman with sunglasses and gold earrings, is completely focused on the path. Another plane. Olbia? Another siren, same process. So now three already, ambulance, fire brigade, police?

Lots of people walk here. I can follow their movement on the mountain with my eyes for a long time. The two unequals keep their distance from each other. If he stops, she stops too. You went through between the two nut trees, then right and at the end

of the fields turned left in the direction of Hegenheim. The Allschwil church bell rings at 6 p.m. The bees flew home. A crow squawks in the evening concert of blackbirds, I’m cold and go home too.

(Mimi von Moss)

S’schneit mer wysi bloomed over d hand old chirsihain shady hoschtet
wyti view over the country

the tower of basel grows like wild d’unde in dr even shimmerets wyss black and grey

again and again it roars in the sky, wing after wing
ufem wag in the wyt walt

in the protection of the elder bush it old wooden bench
like a lysligi dear tune:

« and mankmol danki: oh, how must everything go home now? Blüescht un Maye now

I’ll come soon. –
Dear Zit!
I’m coming now, darling. » (quote from Nathan Katz)

(Victor Saudan)

Des fleurs blanches me tend to sur la main vieille cerisaie verger ombragé
large vue sur le pays

les tours de Bâle poussent comme déchainées en bas dans la plaine ça brille
blanc noir et gris

de temps à autre ça brame dans le ciel avion après avion
sur le chemin verse le vaste monde

sous la protection du sureau
un vieux banc en bois
comme une douce voix qui m’est chere :

« Il m’arrive parfois de me dire :
Au pays, maintenant, comme all doit fleurir ! Les arbres en fleurs, les fleurs des jardins,

Le village se voit a peine.
Ah ! juste ciel !
Le village se voit a peine. (…) » (Citation from Nathan Katz, tradition by Yolande Siebert)

(Victor Saudan)


bloomed beau
scharewiis lushi fruits
season apres l’autre

(Martin Burr)

Bliete bluete beau