Strohn is an Ortsgemeinde – a municipality belonging to a Verbandsgemeinde, a kind of collective municipality – in the Vulkaneifel district in Rhineland-Palatinate, Germany. It belongs to the Verbandsgemeinde of Daun, whose seat is in the like-named town.
The municipality lies in the Vulkaneifel, a part of the Eifel known for its volcanic history, geographical and geological features, and even ongoing activity today, including gases that sometimes well up from the earth.
Strohn lies south of Gillenfeld and the Pulvermaar, a local volcanic crater lake, on the river Alf’s left bank.
The following hamlets and homesteads belong to Strohn: Altheck, Buchholz, Dornheck, Herrenbüsch, Sprink, Tannenhof and Trautzberg.
The surrounding area is characterized by the Eifel’s vulcanism. Particularly worthy of mention is the Strohner Märchen, a small maar that has almost dried up (Märchen here is a diminutive of Maar, not the German word for “fairy tale”). It came into being about 8,100 years ago through a side eruption of the Römerberg, a local cinder cone. Together with the Pulvermaar and the Römerberg, it forms a nature conservation area, which became protected in 1984.
Comin' in easy on the sea train.
Walkin' out under the fog again,
And the sky don't explain
If I'm up or across or down, town around just like then.
The neon screen will never know when.
Be quiet or dream,
And just not crowd the scenes
Of my mind's sound.
I'm goin' under and comin' on out
To see you again.
My mind's been wanderin', but I'm about
To meet you again.
The rhythm of hearts plays in my veins
Like some long-gone lonesome sea train.
I'm only sure that the weather would break if I did.
They'll come easy, then go glad.
Your child at the window says the rain don't look sad,
And you ask me who's mad
As you show me your lost and found.
Down, you're bound again.
With your fan, my fire turns to wind
Your glass fills mine with sand,
You shout, "I'm not your land!"
And I hear the ground.
I'm a weeping shadows, feeling like a willow
Bearing Martha's flower; as the sun comes, I come.
Far across the street, clear across the stream,
The sun shall come.
If you're in a tree and the forest falls, who hears you?
[musical interlude]
And the hills meet the wind, making dew.
We see us again.
As the sun behind clouds, breaking through,
We're gonna meet them again.
The rhythm of hearts plays through my veins
Like some long-gone lonesome sea train.
Rain in the meadow beats the river to the ocean.