the queen of swans

Auf Facebook postete Paolo Coelho dieses Foto und fragte, wer diese Frau wohl sei.

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daraufhin schrieb ich diese Geschichte. Da die meisten Leser seiner Seite Englisch sprechen, habe ich dem Rechnung getragen. Da ich darin nicht besonders geübt bin, freue ich mich über Anmerkungen und Korrekturen, meine bescheidenen englischen Ausdrucksmöglichkeiten betreffend. Auch die Kommata werden ja im Englischen anders gesetzt. Ich habe versucht, mich an mein Highschool Jahr zu erinnern, aber da haben sich bestimmt ein Paar Fehler eingeschlichen… Ich habe mir vorgenommen, die Geschichte in naher Zukunft auch noch ins Deutsche zu übersetzen. Interessant ist aber schon, dass ich mit beschränkten Ausdrucksmitteln, kürzere Sätze schreibe 😀 . Wenn ich eine Weile dort bei meinen Freunden am Lake Tahoe bin (diesen hatte ich übrigens beim Schreiben vor den inneren Augen), werden meine Sätze wieder blumiger. Dann träume ich auch wieder auf Englisch. Derzeit ist dies nicht der Fall. Ich vermisse den Lake sehr. Meine Liebe zu diesem Ort scheint vielleicht durch die Zeilen hindurch. Und ich bin erpicht darauf, die deutsche Übersetzung laut zu lesen.

Ich empfehle Dir wärmstens, einmal auf das Bild zu klicken.

lake

Feel free and enjoy 🙂

So, who is she?

she is the queen of swans.

In a former life she married the king of swans. They lived on a lake, as whide as a sea.

The lake always stood still. It was wellknown as the lake of peace.

Everyting was quiet and sensitized around the shores of the water. The ground of this lake was covered with pearls and shimmery stones. When sunlight drew its lines into the deep water, they reflected it´s beauty into a million rainbow lines.

The king of swans had magic webfeet. They could soak up the rainbow reflections from the deep, and they would flow through it´s body into each tip of a feather. The wife of the king swan swam at his side and touched his featherdress with her own.

All knowledge in the sky was in the colours on the inside. Prism light was in her eyes. And it was her sensitive look at the king, that gave him the strength to heal all surroundings. Just by being present. Just by floating through the stillness of the surface.

The people adored the swans as holy and wise. And everyone visited the lake at least once a week.

One day, there came a wanderer to peace land. He needed to drink and wanted to wash his clothes, all dirty from the wars, he´d seen in other countries. He had lost his home, his family and his friends. He even lost his personal story, because there was noone left to tell it to. His name was forgotten. Strangers came and took away the land, he was from. They believed in a different god. They believed, that their god was the only one.

The wanderer had no place to stay, no place to go, but two feet to walk on. So he did.

He kept quiet along his way. He kept his tears locked up. He kept his fears in his back pack. And the wounds of his soul went more quiet, the more his feet started to ache.

Not a single person he met, was worth to trust again. He just wanted to look at the gras and the flowers and the architecture of bridges, he went over to move on.

Along with him, the wanderer brought storm. It was his grey and rough shadow. The witnesses of his journey were afraid of him. He had eyes as dark as the maw of a volcano, that causes the earth to mumble.

The wanderer arrived at the lake of peace and held his feet into the water. The king of swan levitated to his place and looked him in the eye.

But the wanderer could not feel the beauty of silence. He was blind and deaf on the inside. The bomb that wracked his home, took his family and sences away. The white king realized, he needed to silence talk by heart.

He asked for the wanderers name colour. In peace land, every being has a colour name.

As the wanderer remained still, the swan came out of the lake and walked towards the man, sat down beside him and rested his head on the man´s knee. The wanderer surprisingly started to cry. The tears were still, but they drew a line on his face. This line shimmered in turquoised depths.

So now the swan knew his name. He went back to the water and swam away to collect the certain colour from the sea and then directed it into just one of his feathers. Afterwards, he pulled it out and came back to hand it over.

The wanderer held his feather in an opened hand and covered it with the other one. Then a miracle happened.

The black in his eyes dissolved and the most beautiful turquoise came thru.

From this day on the wanderer stayed and the winds with him. The lake wasn´t still anymore. Rainbowlines got churned up and couldn´t reach the feet of the king no longer.

When the swan of peace died, the winds started to blow stronger. People got all nervous and anxious. Fear moved into the hearts of land. But the wanderers hope was strong and he tried to force the queen of swans to talk to him and bring the silence back, so they could all listen to the heart inside again.

But the queen was so sad, she did not lift her eyes any more. The wanderer took off his clothes and went into the water.

The female swan was so sad, she couldn´t move away from him, even though, she was afraid. So he swam to her and layed his head on her shoulders.

That´s when the winds stood still and her coral tears started to flow. They fell into the water and the surface was a silent plate again. On the ground of the lake, beautiful corals started to grow.

The wanderer went back to land and fell asleep after a long loud and teared up life so far. He had a dream that night.

The king of swans talked by heart to him again and said: „we are all one – every species and every land. The winds will always blow away the tortures. And sometimes the darkest greys and loudest noises are amongst them.

But you can always listen to the stillness in your heart. And you can always care for another one, who seemes to be stuck in depths of pain. You freed my wife, and I want to thank you. Tomorrow morning you´ll wake up, and you won´t live alone no more.“

The king vanished into the endless horizon of the lake. When the turquoise man awoke, there was a woman lying right next to him. She was wearing nothing but pearls and jewels. And her sleeping face was as quiet as nothing he ever saw before. On her head there was a crown, shaped like a swan, and they together learned to dance with the wind of change.