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 flower
in all manner of words and shapes.

Go. Come.
Love blots out its name: to
you it ascribes itself.

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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.

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 were
mine,

as if without us we could be we,

I open your leaves, forever,

you bless, you bed
us free.

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 Child of Sight.

It sees, it sees, we see,

I see you, you too see.

Ice will rise again before

This Hour shall cease to be.