Paul Celan

(23 November 1920 - 20 April 1970 / (Cernăuţi, Bukovin) Chernivtsi, Ukraine)

Flower - Poem by Paul Celan

The stone.
The stone in the air, which I followed.
Your eye, as blind as the stone.

We were
hands,
we baled the darkness empty, we found
the word that ascended summer:
flower.

Flower - a blind man's word.
Your eye and mine:
they see
to water.

Growth.
Heart wall upon heart wall
adds petals to it.

One more word like this word, and the hammers
will swing over open ground.


Comments about Flower by Paul Celan

  • Rajnish Manga (8/27/2017 1:09:00 PM)


    A deeply philosophical expression of a bruised heart trying to find solace in words which are akin to the petals of a lovely flower. Thanks.
    We were.... hands,
    we baled the darkness empty, we found
    the word that ascended summer: flower.
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  • Sanjukta Sahoo (8/27/2017 10:47:00 AM)


    we baled the darkness empty, we found
    the word that ascended summer:
    flower.

    Nice poem to read.
    Thanks for sharing it.
    10
    (Report) Reply

  • Jeanette Telusma (8/27/2017 5:51:00 AM)


    - - -Growth.
    Heart wall upon heart wall
    adds petals to it.- - - Flower, a well-written philosophical poem. Congratulations for being chosen poem of the day. Thanks for sharing.
    (Report) Reply

  • Kumarmani Mahakul (8/27/2017 3:45:00 AM)


    A great philosophical poem painted nicely. Thanks and congratulation to his soul. (Report) Reply

  • Lantz Pierre (8/27/2017 3:19:00 AM)


    This is certainly not an easy piece of writing to digest. But then that's typical of Celan. His experiences in life in some sense ruined or corrupted his trust in the mimetic function of literature and it's aesthetic role in life. From the title to the first line we are presented with a stark physical dichotomy, just dropped straight out of the blue with no explanation. What is the relation? What are we to infer? The relation is somehow foreign to the natural aspect we would usually assume. The stone is not inert on the ground, but acted upon so as to be in the air. A projectile bridging space? As sight should? Blindness. When the world is invisible we must shift to the sense of touch and use our hands. And hearing? The word must a sound. Something which flows with vibrations through the air? A flow-er? That may again lead to perception, a fluidity, a bridging of space from source to repository, like a river flowing downstream. Like water, so necessary for life. And communication, that tool to allow lives to come together. Love together. Work together. One word is a beginning, but a beginning only, and difficult to achieve. (Report) Reply

  • Anil Kumar Panda (8/27/2017 2:54:00 AM)


    Like this poem. Thanks for sharing. (Report) Reply

  • Edward Kofi Louis (8/27/2017 2:03:00 AM)


    As blind as the stone! Thanks for sharing this poem with us. (Report) Reply

  • Bernard F. Asuncion (8/27/2017 1:19:00 AM)


    I notice change of words in the poem as commented by the good poet Fabrizio Frosini.... (Report) Reply

  • Fabrizio Frosini (5/19/2015 2:28:00 AM)


    Flower

    The stone.
    The stone in the air that I followed.
    Your eye as blind as the stone.

    We were
    hands,
    we scooped out the darkness, we found
    the word which came up along the summer:
    flower.

    Flower – a word for the blind.
    Your eye and my eye:
    they supply
    water.

    Growth.
    Heartwell by heart wall
    puts forth new leaves.

    One word more, like this, and the hammers
    swing in the open.

    © 1995, Vivian Smith
    From: New Selected Poems
    Publisher: Angus & Robertson, Sydney,1995
    ISBN: 0 207 186316
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, November 23, 2011


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