“Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night… — Paul Celan Copy Share Image
How you die out in me: down to the last worn-out knot of breath you're there, with a splinter of life. — Paul Celan Copy Share Image
Reachable, near and not lost, there remained in the midst of the losses this one thing: language. It, the language, remained, not… — Paul Celan Copy Share Image
“Autumn eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends. From the nuts we shell time and we teach it to walk: then… — Paul Celan Copy Share Image
We are told that when Hölderlin went 'mad,' he constantly repeated, 'Nothing is happening to me, nothing is happening to me.' — Paul Celan Copy Share Image
“Your hair waves once more when I weep. With the blue of your eyes you lay the table of love: a bed between summer… — Paul Celan Copy Share Image
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… — Paul Celan Copy Share Image
“Autunm eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends. From the nuts we shell time and we teach it to walk: then… — Paul Celan Copy Share Image
Don't sign your name between worlds, surmount the manifold of meanings, trust the tearstain, learn to live. — Paul Celan Copy Share Image
