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Dec. 4th, 2003 12:15 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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greatpoetryTwelve Years
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.
-- 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.
-- Paul Celan
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no subject
Date: 2003-12-04 08:13 am (UTC)