An allen, nicht im Exil und nicht zuhause... oder nie laenger fremnde, sondern nuch noch im Exil. An den "door-keepers".
“It gives me pain to hear this word destiny in the mouth of a young person, just at the age when men are commonly accustomed to ascribe their own violent inclinations to the will of higher natures.” -Goethe, Wilhelm Meisterslehrjahre
A poem of Else Lasker-Schueler from the "Hebrew Ballads", Berlin 1913
Cain's eyes are not a delight for God,
Yet Abel's countenance, a garden of gold,
Yes, Abel's eyes are nightingales.
Abel always sings so fairly
To the strings of his soul,
But through Cain's belly, the graveyards of the city run.
And yet he's to slay his brother -
Abel, Abel, your blood colours the sky so profound!.
Where is Cain, so that I can divert him:
Have you slain the sweetest bird,
That is in the countenance of your brother?