Summary: Alle Gedichte in dieser Sendung handeln von Frauen und auch die Musik ist ausschließlich weiblich, nämlich von Emily Wells, die nicht nur singt, sondern auch alle Instrumente selber einspielt. Playlist: Emily Wells: Mama‘s Gonna Give You Love Martin Auer: Ich bin eine Nixe, sagt sie Emily Wells: Come to Me Martin Auer: Marilyn tanzt Emily Wells: Don‘t Use Me Up Martin Auer: Sie geht nicht mehr vor die Tür Emily Wells: Dirty Sneakers Martin Auer: Poem about a Dirty Light Switch Emily Wells: Los Angeles Martin Auer: Sheeba will be There Emily Wells: Let Your Guard Down Martin Auer: Gute Zeit Emily Wells: View From a Blind Eye Martin Auer: Geh schlafen, Anna-Marie Emily Wells: Passenger Hier die Texte der englischen Gedichte zum Nachlesen: Poem about a dirty light switch in Delhi National Museum Then who would want to write a poem about a dirty light switch? I’d rather do one About a girl in a teddybear hat. Beauty can be found everywhere, so they say, okay, so why not in a dirty light switch? And who says that a poem has to be about beauty? You see, I met this girl in a teddybear hat and she wants to go to Africa to work with refugee children. She took me to the museum but the only thing I was allowed to photograph there, was this dirty light switch. I would rather have taken the picture of the delicate painting of Tagore’s old mother, but they wouldn’t let me because, of course they have postcards and booklets to sell, so I had to take one of the light switch instead. And in fact, I am not displeased with that bargain. The light switch, I think, has all the qualities of a work of art, it is full of surprises and mysteries. There are broken symmetries to be found and variations of regularity and the more I look at it the clearer it gets that in fact it is the relic of an ancient civilisation, fraught with history and fate and human desires and all that stuff. Why, they must have been craving for light at that time but they conquered the darkness using this heroic piece of electric equipment thousands and thousands of times with weary fingers soiling it and painting it over a hundred times, fighting the gnawing teeth of decay. If the museum people knew what they have there, they would have a thousand postcards and booklets made and would set up a guard beside that light switch to keep people from taking pictures of it. So in fact I am quite content after all with my photograph of the light switch and with my poem. But I still wish it was about that girl in the teddybear hat. This poem is entitled: Poem about the girl in the teddybear hat whom I met in Delhi and who wants to go to Africa to work with refugee children and whom I met again when she attended a course at the Peace University in Schlaining, Austria 1. When the armies have left, when the land lies panting and bleeding and quietly weeping, Sheeba will be there. Sheeba will be there, she’ll arrive in a jeep, in a truck, in an airplane she will drive through the deserts and over the mountains. Sheeba will be there. Sheeba will be there to pick up the wounded to feed the hungry to console the children, the terrified children. When the armies have plundered the fields and the shops and the pharmacies Sheeba will be there. Sheeba will be there to bring the rice, to bring the water, to bring the penicillin. When the rightful government will have been installed when the enemies of freedom will have been chased away Sheeba will be there. Sheeba will be there to take the child soldiers by the hand and give them a football and teach them to weep when the ball hits their nose. When the mining companies have their contracts renewed, when the pipelines are safe again, when the rebels have been chased away from the oilfields Sheeba will be there. Sheeba will be there to talk softly to the women dishonoured by rape, to gently lead them away from their husbands and brothers and fathers to quietly take the suicide rope from their hands. Sheeba will be there Gentle, earne[...]
