1 мин
Слушать(AI)The Poles
The Polesare within us,insurmountablewhile Awake,we sleep across, to the Gateof Mercy,
I lose you to you, thatis my Snow-Comfort, say, that Jerusalem is, say, as if I were thisyour Whiteness,as if you weremine, as if without us we could be we,
I open your leaves, forever, you bless, you bedus free.
Paul Celan
Paul Celan (/ˈsɛlæn/;[1] German: [ˈtseːlaːn]; 23 November 1920 – c. 20 April 1970) was a Romanian-born German-language poet and translator. He w
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Memory of France
Together with me recall: the sky of Paris, that giant autumn crocus We went shopping for hearts at the flower girl's booth:they were blue and they opened up in the water It began to rain in our room,and our neighbour came in Monsieu...
Twelve Years
The linethat remained, thatbecame true: yourhouse in Paris — becomethe alterpiece of your hands
There Was Earth
There was Earth in them, andthey dug They dug and they dug, and so their Day went by, and their Night And they did not praise God,who, so they heard, wanted all this,who, so they heard, knew of all this They dug and they heard nothi...
Todesfuge
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundownwe drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at nightwe drink and we drink itwe dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfinedA man lives in the house he plays with the serpents he writeshe writ...
