a city old in trades,
in cultivation of the arts
based on industrious commerce
   of its citizens who boast
the world's oldest commercial fair

the city in which
Martin Luther and Melanchthon
led fierce disputes
with delegations of the Pope

where J. S. Bach found stimulus
and time to master
harmony and rhythm
close to perfection,
(and that was shocked listening
to Leibniz's monadologies),

the city of which
Goethe spoke with praise,
that saw Napoleon defeated
on the nearby battlefield
(and built a monument of quite
imposing ugliness one hundred years
after the fact),

this city suffered hard
from two world wars
followed by over forty years
of dreams gone sour of a new society,
until, most recently,
this city once again
became a catalyst of major change.

Yet those who kept their meetings
at St. Niklas' church
and by their stubborn protest
helped to reunite
a country separated by walls for generations -
those you don't see,
walking the streets of Leipzig now.

What strikes the eye
(besides the crumbling blackened ruins
of former glory,
and strip-mined land
just out of town)
is Wall Street's new frontier,
the bustling peddlers of new easy wealth
as they appear on every street downtown,
offering anything from oranges
to shoes and South Pacific cruises.

Ramshackled pre-fabs built on shabby parking lots
already stake the claims of big banks,
business and insurance companies
that promise earnings, safety and security
to eager though bewildered customers.

   "Pecunia non olet" says the poster
   of the postal savings bank,
   and shows a happy pig
   rooting in money.

Old stores, in order to survive,
have started selling
new and shiny goods
to happy new consumers,

only a few resist

and hesitate to walk a mile
for the melange of
fast food, cigarettes and *****
offered at makeshift stands
that seem have come
to symbolize the great new freedom

of the new Wild East.

          * *

Leyla


Leyla, my nocturnal eyes,
With trees of love,
I hear whispers in my mind,
The sensitive skin that covers all
Is a judgment for the mass with lost life.

The gods created in the past are all forgotten,
As we sat around the fires within the storms ,
Sang songs and looked at the heavens of the skies.

Leyla, where are the dreams and faith in our eyes?
Leyla, is there no surprise for me before my cries.

As I stray alongside the brook,
I see the colors of the rainbow,
Not to venture too far apart from the sea
of feelings all for me and you.

The lost souls of kings and queens,
Created by humanity who drank wine,
and fought for nothing, only screams.

Leyla, where are the dusty roads,
Within bare feats?
Leyla, is there no surprises for me,
Before your lies?

Standing in the mountain heights,
Looking across the horizon,
Behind is all and new fabs trampling under, and
Over for the new beginning.
The dances into the night and screams of pleasure,
But weaker than the moment, only looking
For the sign of the morning.

Leyla, where are the cloudy days we stared into?
Leyla, is there no surprise for me before we tried?

So yesterdays child, with light in your hands,
Still searching for the golden life within the children
that are unborn.

The magic carpet rides are no more, and the
Mermaid no longer brings tears, for no more fears
of the day and night, all is bright for me and you?

Leyla, where are the dreams and faith in your eyes?
Leyla, is there no surprise for us before our cries?

AS I Wandered across the sands of endless time,
Who’s todays is someone else’s tomorrow,

I see, I believe in only sorrow?

Leyla, By me