Category Archives: Paul Celan

Twelve Years – Paul Celan

The line that remained, that became true: . . . your house in Paris — become the alterpiece of your hands. Breathed through thrice, shone through thrice. ………………. It’s turning dumb, turning deaf behind our eyes. I see the poison … Continue reading

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With The Voice – Paul Celan

With the voice of the Field-mouse You squeak up, a sharp Clamp, you bite through my Shirt into the Skin, a Cloth, you slither over my Mouth, in the midst of my, to you, Shadow, burdensome, Speech.

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On My Right – Paul Celan

On my Right – who? The Death-Woman. And you, on my Left, you? The Wandering-Sickles in extra- heavenly Place mime themselves grey-white Moon-Swallows, together, Star-Swifts, I plunge there and pour an Urnful down onto you, in you.

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The Poles – Paul Celan

The Poles are within us, insurmountable while Awake, we sleep across, to the Gate of Mercy, I lose you to you, that is my Snow-Comfort, say, that Jerusalem is, say, as if I were this your Whiteness, as if you … Continue reading

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Landscape – Paul Celan

tall poplars — human beings of this earth! black pounds of happiness — you mirror them to death! I saw you, sister, stand in that effulgence.

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Poem – Little Night 

Little Night: when you take me within, within, up there, three Pain-Inches above the Floor: all the Shroud-Coats of Sand, all the Help-Nots, all, that still laughs with the Tongue – 

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Poem – Ice Eden

There is a Land that’s Lost, Moon waxes in its Reeds, and all that’s turned to frost with us, burns there and sees. It sees, for it has Eyes, Earths they are, and bright. Night, Night, Alkalis. It sees, this … Continue reading

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