Poems in Prose
1. Warum Oscar Wilde?  

2. The Artist 

3. The Doer of Good 

4. The Disciple

5. The Master

6. House of Judgement

7. The Teacher of Wisdom

8. Biographie Oscar Wilde


 Liebe Gedichte
 Love Poems
 Wilhelm Busch
 Oscar Wilde
 Lauter Tiere 
 Liebe Zicken

Oscar Wilde - Poems in Prose 
Gedichte in Prosa

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It was night-time and He was alone.

And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and
went towards the city.

And when He came near He heard within the city
the tread of the feet of joy, and the laughter of the
mouth of gladness and the loud noise of many lutes.
And He knocked at the gate and certain of the
gate-keepers opened to Him.

And He beheld a house that was of marble and had
fair pillars of marble before it. The pillars were hung
with garlands, and within and without there were
torches of cedar. And He entered the house.

And when He had passed through the hall of
chalcedony and the hall of jasper, and reached the
long hall of feasting, He saw lying on a couch of
sea-purple one whose hair was crowned with red
roses and whose lips were red with wine.

And He went behind him and touched him on the shoulder and said to him, "Why do you live like this?"

And the young man turned round and recognised Him, and made answer and said, "But I was a leper
once, and you healed me. How else should I live?"

And He passed out of the house and went again into
the street.

And after a little while He saw one whose face and raiment were painted and whose feet were shod with
pearls. And behind her came, slowly as a hunter, a
young man who wore a cloak of two colours.
Now the face of the woman was as the fair face of an
idol, and the eyes of the young man were bright with

And He followed swiftly and touched the hand of the young man and
said to him, "Why do you look at this woman and in such wise?"

And the young man turned round and recognised Him and said, "But I
was blind once, and you gave me sight. At what else should I

And He ran forward and touched the painted raiment of the woman and
said to her, "Is there no other way in which to walk save the way
of sin?"

And the woman turned round and recognised Him, and laughed and
said, "But you forgave me my sins, and the way is a pleasant way."

And He passed out of the city.

And when He had passed out of the city He saw seated by the
roadside a young man who was weeping.

And He went towards him and touched the long locks of his hair and
said to him, "Why are you weeping?"

And the young man looked up and recognised Him and made answer,
"But I was dead once, and you raised me from the dead. What else
should I do but weep?"

Oscar Wilde

Copyright © 2007 by Karin Rohner

Text- und Bildbereich:

Oscar-Wilde-Gedichte in Prosa

Poems in Prose
The Doer of Good - Der Mittler

Lyrik (allgemein) Top1000