Losing too is still ours; and even forgetting
still has a shape in the kindgdom of transformation.
When something's let go of, it circles; and though we are
rarely the center
of the circle, it draws around us its unbroken, marvelous
curve.
Translated by Stephen Mitchell
a superb, insightful and sympathetic poem. Would like to see the German.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is for Poem Hunter, for if someone in your organization chose to have this transcendent poem read by a robot, it is past time to reconsider the importance of the human voice in poetry. That any poem would be read by a nonhuman voice is a grave error. That For Hans Carossa is read by a robot is a travesty.