Paul Celan

“Autumn eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends. From the nuts we shell time and we teach it to…

— Paul Celan

Tall poplars--human beings of this earth!

— Paul Celan

Death is a master from Germany.

— Paul Celan

“spills of mire I swallowed inside the tower”

— Paul Celan

We are told that when Hölderlin went 'mad,' he constantly repeated, 'Nothing is happening to me, nothing is happening to me.'

— Paul Celan

He speaks truly who speaks the shade.

— Paul Celan

“Your hair waves once more when I weep. With the blue of your eyes you lay the table of love: a bed…

— Paul Celan

They've healed me to pieces.

— Paul Celan

Poetry is perhaps this: an Atemwende, a turning of our breath. Who knows, perhaps poetry goes its way—the way of art—for the…

— Paul Celan

There was earth inside them, and they dug.

— Paul Celan

Read! Read all the time, the understanding will come by itself.

— Paul Celan

“Schwerer werden. Leichter sein.”

— Paul Celan

“Autunm eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends. From the nuts we shell time and we teach it to…

— Paul Celan

Reality is not simply there, it must be searched and won.

— Paul Celan

Don't sign your name between worlds, surmount the manifold of meanings, trust the tearstain, learn to live.

— Paul Celan

“Threadsuns above the grayblack wastes. A tree- high thought grasps the light-tone: there are still songs to sing beyond mankind.”

— Paul Celan

Count up the almonds, Count what was bitter and kept you waking, Count me in too: I sought your eye when you…

— Paul Celan

“To stand in the shadow of the scar up in the air. To stand-for-no-one-and-nothing. Unrecognized, for you alone. With all there is…

— Paul Celan

“They dug and they dug, so their day went by for them, their night. And they did not praise God, who, so…

— Paul Celan

“Go blind now, today: eternity also is full of eyes - in them drowns what helped images down the way they came,…

— Paul Celan

“DUMB AUTUMN SMELLS. The marguerite, unbroken, passed between home and chasm through your memory. A strange lostness was palpably present, almost you…

— Paul Celan

The heart hid still in the dark, hard as the Philosophers Stone.

— Paul Celan

A poem, being an instance of language, hence essentially dialogue, may be a letter in a bottle thrown out to the sea…

— Paul Celan

Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won.

— Paul Celan

“Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night…

— Paul Celan