1
With wine and being lost, withless and less of both: I rode through the snow, do you read me I rode God far-- I rode Godnear, he sang, it wasour last ride overthe hurdled humans. They cowered whenthey heard usoverhead, theywrote, theylied our neighinginto one of theirimage-ridden languages.Paul Celan
2
Don't sign your namebetween worlds, surmountthe manifold of meanings, trust the tearstain, learn to live.Paul Celan
3
Each arrow you shoot offcarries its own targetinto the decidedlysecrettanglePaul Celan
4
Rush of pine scent (once upon a time), the unlicensed convictionthere ought to be another wayof sayingthis.Paul Celan