1 min read
Слушать(AI)Homecoming
Snowfall, denser and denser,dove-coloured as yesterday,snowfall, as if even now you were sleeping.
White, stacked into distance.
Above it, endless,the sleigh track of the lost.
Below, hidden,presses upwhat so hurts the eyes,hill upon hill,invisible.
On each,fetched home into its today,an I slipped away into dumbness:wooden, a post.
There: a feeling,blown across by the ice windattaching its dove- its snow-coloured cloth as a flag.
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
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
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...
The Trumpet-Part
The Trumpet-Partdeep in the Text-Voidat Torch-Height,in the Time-Hole: listen inwith your Mouth
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...
On My Right
On my Right – who The Death-Woman And you, on my Left, you The Wandering-Sickles in extra-heavenly Placemime themselves
