---

Paul Celan - Twelve Years
Work rating: Low

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.


Tr. Michael Hamburger
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.