The linethat remained, thatbecame true: . . . yourhouse in Paris — becomethe alterpiece of your hands.
Breathed through thrice,shone through thrice.……………….
It's turning dumb, turning deafbehind our eyes.
I see the poison flowerin all manner of words and shapes.
Go.
Come.
Love blots out its name: toyou it ascribes itself.
Tr.
Michael Hamburger
