A poem, as a manifestation of language and thus essentially dialogue, can be a message in a bottle, sent out in the –not always greatly hopeful-belief that somewhere and sometime it could wash up on land, on heartland perhaps. Poems in this sense too are under way: they are making toward something. Toward what? Toward something standing open, occupiable, perhaps toward an addressable Thou, toward an addressable reality.
Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. Yes, language. In spite of everything, it remained secure against loss. - Paul Celan
Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. Yes, language. In spite of everything, it remained secure against loss.
- Paul Celan
Death is a master from Germany. - Paul Celan
Death is a master from Germany.
A nothing we were, are, shall remain, flowering: the nothing--, the no one's rose. - Paul Celan
A nothing we were, are, shall remain, flowering: the nothing--, the no one's rose.
The heart hid still in the dark, hard as the Philosophers Stone. - Paul Celan
The heart hid still in the dark, hard as the Philosophers Stone.
Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won. - Paul Celan
Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won.
Read! Read all the time, the understanding will come by itself. - Paul Celan
Read! Read all the time, the understanding will come by itself.
who is invisible enough to see you - Paul Celan
who is invisible enough to see you
Spring: trees flying up to their birds - Paul Celan
Spring: trees flying up to their birds
He speaks truly who speaks the shade. - Paul Celan
He speaks truly who speaks the shade.
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