Schibboleth (Paul Celan Poems)
Mitsamt meinen Steinen,den gro(Paul Celan)
Mitsamt meinen Steinen,den gro(Paul Celan)
Abend der Worte - Ruteng(Paul Celan)
more fully, since snow fell even on this sun-drifted, sun-drenched sea, blossoms the ice in those baskets you carry into ...
Most brightly of all burned the hair of my evening loved one: to her I send the coffin of lightest ...
In Kohln, a town of monks and bones, And pavements fang'd with murderous stones And rags, and hags, and hideous ...
Autunm eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends. From the nuts we shell time and we teach ...
In the story of Patroclus no one survives, not even Achilles who was nearly a god. Patroclus resembled him; they ...
not on my lips look for your mouth, not in front of the gate for the stranger, not in the ...
tall poplars -- human beings of this earth! black pounds of happiness -- you mirror them to death! I saw ...
The line that remained, that became true: . . . your house in Paris -- become the alterpiece of your ...
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it ...
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