Poems by Paul CELAN

Like-minded you,
    heath-faring near one:

 
over-
death-
sized we lie
down together, that which is time-
less swarms
under your breathing eyelids,

 
the blackbird-pair hangs
alongside us, beneath
our mutual overhead con-
senting white

 
meta-
stases.

Near are we, Lord,
near and graspable.

 
Grasped already, Lord,
clawing at one another, as were
the body of each one of us
your body, Lord.

 
Pray, Lord,
pray to us,
we are near.

 
Askew we went there,
    we went there, to stoop
over trough and crater.

 
To drink we went, Lord.

 
It was blood, it was,
what you shed, Lord.

 
It glittered.

 
It flung your image into our eyes, Lord.
Eyes and mouth wait so open and empty,
Lord.
We have drunk, Lord.
The blood and the image that was in the
blood, Lord.

 
Pray, Lord.
We are near.