For Paul Celan Poem by Paul Hartal

The stars of eternity stare into the darkness
Breathing nothingness that grows around
Orphaned black holes of silent despair in space
Your percolated wounds never could heal
By the doleful symphonies of a tormented élan.

You never recovered from the mass murders
To which you bear witness with anguished cenotaphs
Oh your yellow haired mother could not come home
She could not come home; her heart was torn by lead.

Blazing stars of frozen eternity shine at the moon frost
Slowly the late autumn opens an envelope of pain
It engulfs your lost world with charred pilgrims
Floating along latitudes of convulsive memories.

Your yellow haired mother could not come home
Her heart was torn by lead; she could not come home
Hot stars of cold eternity gleam in the lonely darkness
And black holes dance in the crumbling empty space
You yearn for faith, searching for a beam of hope.