poet Paul Celan

Paul Celan

#324 on top 500 poets

The Poles

The Poles
are within us,
while Awake,
we sleep across, to the Gate
of Mercy,

I lose you to you, that
is my Snow-Comfort,

say, that Jerusalem is,

say, as if I were this
your Whiteness,
as if you were

as if without us we could be we,

I open your leaves, forever,

you bless, you bed
us free.

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Poem Edited: Wednesday, November 23, 2011

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Comments about The Poles by Paul Celan

  • Warren FalcónWarren Falcón (11/23/2011 7:04:00 PM)

    Celan. A marvel. One must bend to him, or try to raise up to his depth/height.

    'you bed us free'

    Love to Celan, what and wherever he was writing/living from within and giving the attempt to us, the most undeserving but he would, too, give us all 'snow comfort.'

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