~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
9 New Poems by Paul Celan
Translated by
Reads in your handkerchief,
Faster than
Fast.
The bluets of her glances grow through her,
Lotus and gala
In onionskin:
You
Eyeglass-fingered
Farness
the truss particle
Deep in the glue
Ladle
At lance loom
In the time piece holly-shock:
Listen your wayside in
With your mouthwash.
in the depths, you say you
stay, stonefaced against
the One, darkhush behind
the Figure’s starefound
your Body, bound behind
stone,sank to
the depths of the
sunk, in it’s own
sad Command: dig
down/in the Open
eyes that recognize your
signstill--------->seeing, you now
sinkingvine to one
Word:
invisiblenowareyou
walking among every
metaphor of
shit is
the Whimper
of Men, in
squalor
i gone, in the heartseas it’s own
glowing, running out
the Heart you see, we carry a mirrored
image, marrows in
an image:
the boneswells.
Into the bottomwell
burns on the brow
burrowing what twists
in this hushcharge—[?]
The ram, which songs itself out
of this World, that stones you
further away, from this
world dead or,
gone
masquerade through tho, you
only halfspoke this
templetrembles from
the Thought:
“you, I let you
wait”—here
weightsyou & you
were not
yet übersung still
underdone
in the ündertone, which
begins:
hushumperhush
It will be something, languid
the bodylatrines that
fills you, towards
a funk, lift
me to your
mouth
to chew this
Hand too, only
pulls to Thy
memories
pool each drop
of Youth
when the Sun
went down
each Summer
falls
to circlesyou
in thinskin
silentlythrough
to You
the nothing of this, was
a noting, that we Rinse
our nightskin
in the End, days
we believe it’s all
to endstill
in the endthrough
the sliding of our
skin in sheets
within the Rub
of her Refuge
shadeweighting
the sharp satiating
baked
in the yawlbloom
digging our
graves
too
with the voice of the field
quitesyou
to sludge,
to clump
to biting yourself
through
the Skin, a morsel
you slide into
your Mouth
in the middle
of the Night
as the snō
outside
parts your life
ruined at
last in the
upwind
chills the always
hungbones
flattening the areas
that shrieked
grooved
ice grows
the World
in a dark
shade
the way
you
ring around
the Rosie
staples you in
the scourhour
sours
