the beauty, the beauty, the beauty

snow & smoke on the coldest of nights
peering out frost scratched windows
which fog with every breath

thought of fingernail scrawling
a violence against the white
something so naked the untouched brutal cold

covered up the world can be so beautiful


FOUR POEMS
Paul Celan
translated by Pierre Joris

YOU WITH THE DARKNESS-SLINGSHOT,
you with the stone:

It is overevening,
I throw light behind myself.
Fetch me down,
take us
seriously.

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