Zeitgeistlyrik
The Promise of Shangri-La
(By Satis Shroff, Freiburg-Kappel)
Ah, Shangri-la,
Land of mysterious rites,
Global telepathy,
A paradise on earth,
Behind the majestic Himalayas.
Where the wise monks live long,
Where dreams come true,
Where people are a simple folk,
With pure, innocent hearts.
A land where people have
Precious feelings,
Noble thoughts.
A must-see experience
For souls who seek themselves,
Who want to attain blitz nirvana,
Through travel, dialogue,
Meditation and mystic.
* * *
Horizon Found (Satis Shroff)
I made a discovery
The other day:
Shangri La
Was within me.
I spent a lifetime,
Searching for it,
Out in the West.
I crossed the Indian Ocean,
Leaving behind an ancient country,
Where kings did as they pleased.
The earliest dynasties in Catmandu Valley
Were the Gopalas, Mahisapolas and Kirats,
Who were succeeded
By Lichhavis and the Thakuri Mallas.
One day a dreaded king from Gorkha
Ravaged the fair vale of Catmandu,
When its people were celebrating
The Feast of Indra,
The God of the Firmament,
The personified atmosphere,
Bringing Nepal under his rule.
King Gyanendra the eleventh Shah king,
Was ousted by his own folk,
With the help of the growing Maoists.
I left my country to land
In an old Allemanic town,
That had been the subject
Of a dispute between
Austria and France.
A town under the Hapsburg,
Then Napoleon’s soldiers,
To end under Baden-Württemberg.
A twisting town with a stream,
Flowing along its cobbled alleys,
And a Gothic cathedral
Under the Black Forest.
In the holidays I went
To many different cities,
Saw museums and pompous palaces.
One such palace was the Schloss Neuschwanstein,
Built by the Bavarian Ludwig II.
A castle with breathtaking beauty,
A dream in marmor,
Akin to the dreams
Of a young man from the Himalayas.
Another dream came true,
When I entered the Palace of Glass in Versailles.
I learned about life,
Comparing the East and the West,
Only to realise
That the rituals and cycles of life,
Were the same,
Everywhere I went:
Humans nagged by anxieties,
Fear and angst,
Complexes, phobias,
Neurosis.
Fear of losing jobs,
Husbands and spouses.
Houses built on mortgages,
With exorbitant interests,
Patchwork families galore.
Shangri-la,
You are in me,
I am in you,
In the nature of our spirits,
Wearing a mantle of light,
A reassuring sunlight,
That brings hope and compassion.
Om shanti. Shanti.
* * *
Death Parade (Satis Shroff)
Love parade in Duisburg,
Street Parade in Zürich,
Panic among the masses,
A big party society.
On July 31,2010
Helvetia celebrated her birthday
With eighteen tons of fireworks,
Fired from two ships,
Across the sky over the Rhine,
With 100,000 visitors.
In Germany the people are shocked,
To learn that 20 young souls,
Out dancing ecstatically,
Techno-rhythmically,
Were stamped to death,
By fellow ravers,
Who turned into a thoughtless mob,
Out to save their own lives
In panic.
A quarter million ravers were invited,
Half a million came.
Those who couldn’t find a place,
Didn’t go to the city of Duisburg.
Eleven young women,
Eight young men,
Out to rave,
Were carried
To the grave.
The authorities and organisers,
Washed their hands in innocence,
Blamed it on individual weakness
And folley,
The tunnel was for 20,000,
We’ll budge no more.
* * *
Your Happiness (Satis Shroff)
You scrutinise yourself
In front of the mirror,
Want to remain young and beautiful,
Clutch your share
Of love and happiness.
Deluding yourself,
Tai-chi or yoga would be preferable,
You have eyes
Only for younger night creatures
As you look ‘em up
In their nocturnal haunts.
Can’t get rid of
This nagging and gnawing cancer
Called anxiety.
Ah, anxiety
The cause of premature ageing.
Sleepless nights,
Insomnia.
A younger partner and viagra,
Is the road to distress.
Your psyche,
Your looks might improve fleetingly.
The aerobics, facials,
Ginseng, anti-wrinkle creams,
The bio-diets won’t get you there.
Your platysma betrays your age,
The folds of blubber above fifty,
Under your belly too.
Pretence in front of the mirror,
With dimmed lights,
In front of others,
Proves you’re still vain.
Ah, younger blood,
Vampiric connotations,
Can’t give you the elixir of youth,
You crave for.
You’re only kidding yourself,
Spending a fortune
In the process.
There must be something,
When love is not offered grudgingly.
You desire,
Are desired.
Why watch Casablanca
Or the Bucket List?
You’re not dying,
Not a vegetable yet.
Go out and seek
Your happiness,
Your wellness,
Whatever you call it.
This world is an illusion,
A maya.
You’re the eternal seeker.
* * *
O, my Luve's like a red rose
That's newly sprung in June:
O, my Luve's like a melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune
(Robert Burns)
FLORAL METAPHORS (Satis Shroff)
The graveyard,
A repose for the dead.
For those who still live,
A place with memories,
Both good and bad.
If the grave is cared for,
It makes the dead unique,
As can be seen
By the flowers
Upon the grave.
‘Please don’t bring red carnations
To my grave,’ said a lady.
One likes it,
Others don’t.
Flowers do mean
A lot to others,
Symbolising years of happiness
Together.
‘My wife has long passed away,
I feel she loves the roses,
I lay on her gravestone,’ says a man.
The Hindus and the Romas
Covered their dead with petals.
The Romans even had a festival of roses.
After wars are fought,
A day is chosen,
To pay respect to the deceased.
In Germany it’s Allerheiligen,
Allerseelen and Totensonntag.
Memorial days with religious backgrounds,
Palm Sunday.
Evergreen plants
Symbolise eternal life.
The lily,
A sign of innocence and purity.
The pain felt by those left behind
Is shown by the marigold.
The poppy evokes a gentle demise,
Mimosa and the sunflowers,
Turn to the sun,
Signifying the soul,
That seeks the All-mighty.
A rose on a birthday
Brings joy to your Milady,
Or as a message between
The living and the departed.
The sunflower is her ,
The rose our love,
The daisy reminds you
Of journeys together
In the wilderness.
Flowers don’t need words,
They speak a mute, tender and resolute language.
Say it with flowers.
Glossary:
Allerheiligen: All Saint’s day
Allerseelen: All Soul’s Day
Totensonntag: Memorial Day
Palmsonntag: palm Sunday
Nelken: carnation
Ringelblumen: marigold
Mohn: poppy
Gänseblumchen: daisy
About the Author:
Satis Shroff is a prolific writer, lecturer, poet and artist and the published author of three books on www.stores.lulu.com/satisle: Im Schatten des Himalaya (book of poems in German), Through Nepalese Eyes (travelogue), Katmandu, Katmandu (poetry and prose anthology by Nepalese authors, edited by Satis Shroff). His lyrical works have been published in literary poetry sites: Slow Trains, International Zeitschrift, World Poetry Society (WPS), New Writing North, Muses Review, The Megaphone, Pen Himalaya, Interpoetry. He is a member of “Writers of Peace”, poets, essayists, novelists (PEN), World Poetry Society (WPS) and The Asian Writer. He also writes on ecological, ethno-medical, culture-ethnological themes, and has studied Zoology and Botany in Nepal, Medicine and Social Sciences in Germany and Creative Writing in Freiburg and the United Kingdom.
He describes himself as a mediator between western and eastern cultures and sees his future as a writer and poet. Since literature is one of the most important means of cross-cultural learning, he is dedicated to promoting and creating awareness for Creative Writing and transcultural togetherness in his writings, and in preserving an attitude of Miteinander in this world. He lectures in Basle (Switzerland) and in Germany at the Akademie für medizinische Berufe (University Klinikum Freiburg). Satis Shroff was awarded the German Academic Exchange Prize. If you want to read more articles and poems by the author, then just google or yahoo search for: satis shroff.
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