Poetry is perhaps this: an Atemwende, a turning of our breath. Who knows, perhaps poetry goes its way—the way of art—for the sake of just such a turn? And since the strange, the abyss and Medusa’s head, the abyss and the automaton, all seem to lie in the same direction—is it perhaps this turn, this Atemwende, which can sort out the strange from the strange? It is perhaps here, in this one brief moment, that Medusa’s head shrivels and the automaton runs down? Perhaps, along with the I, estranged and freed here, in this manner, some other thing is also set free?
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.
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.
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.
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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