Twelve 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.

translated by Michael Hamburger

by Paul Celan

Other poems of CELAN (38)

Comments (7)

Now that the spring is here? nice and profundly poem
Would you not be in Tryon Now that the spring is here, When mocking-birds are praising The fresh, the blossomy year? - ITALIAN TRANSLATION: Non vorreste essere in Tryon Ora che la primavera è qui, Quando i tordi lodano Il nuovo, l'anno fiorito?
..........a beautiful tribute of april in north carolina....april is such a magical time of year...
it may sound corny but this poem is magical. yur words paint out such a vivid picture in my mind. yur very inspirational.
This is beautiful. Iam also a publihsed poetry author of nature poems and I really can identify with Harrette. She was brilliant!
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