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How you die out in me: down to the last worn-out knot of breath you're there, with a splinter of life.

Paul Celan

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Paul Celan
Age: 49 †
Born: 1920
Born: November 23
Died: 1970
Died: April 20
Essayist
Lyricist
Poet
Translator
Czernowitz
Paul Antschel
Paul Ancel
Breaths
Dies
Lasts
Splinter
Last
Splinters
Life
Knot
Knots
Worn
Breath

More quotes by Paul Celan

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He speaks truly who speaks the shade.
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We are told that when Hölderlin went 'mad,' he constantly repeated, 'Nothing is happening to me, nothing is happening to me.'
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There was earth inside them, and they dug.
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With a changing key, you unlock the house where the snow of what’s silenced drifts. Just like the blood that bursts from Your eye or mouth or ear, so your key changes. Changing your key changes the word That may drift with flakes. Just like the wind that rebuffs you, Clenched round your word is the snow.
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I went with my very being toward language.
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who is invisible enough to see you
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you're rowing by wordlight
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German poetry is going in a very different direction from French poetry.... Its language has become more sober, more factual. It distrusts beauty. It tries to be truthful.
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The poem is lonely. It is lonely and en route. Its author stays with it. Does this very fact not place the poem already here, at its inception, in the encounter, in the mystery of encounter?
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They've healed me to pieces.
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There's nothing in the world for which a poet will give up writing, not even he is a Jew and the language of his poems is German.
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Illegibility of this world. All things twice over. The strong clocks justify the splitting hour, hoarsely. You , clamped into your deepest part, climb out of yourself for ever.
Paul Celan
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A nothing we were, are, shall remain, flowering: the nothing--, the no one's rose.
Paul Celan
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Tall poplars--human beings of this earth!
Paul Celan
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Spring: trees flying up to their birds
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in the air, there your root remains, there, in the air
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Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown.
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The two heart-grey puddles: two mouthsfull of silence.
Paul Celan
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no one bears witness for the witness
Paul Celan
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The heart hid still in the dark, hard as the Philosophers Stone.
Paul Celan