Paul Celan (23 November 1920 - 20 April 1970 / (Cernăuţi, Bukovin) Chernivtsi, Ukraine)
Count The Almonds
Count the Almonds,
count, what was bitter, watched for you,
count me in:
I sought your Eye, as it opened and no one announced
I spun that hidden Thread,
on which the Dew, of your thought,
slid down to the Pitchers,
that a Speech, which no one’s Heart found, guarded.
Only there did you enter wholly the Name, that is yours,
stepping sure-footedly into yourself,
the Hammers swung free in the Bell-Cradle of Silences,
the Listened-For reached you,
the Dead put its arm round you too,
and the three of you walked through the Evening.
Make me bitter.
Count me among the Almonds.
Comments about this poem (Count The Almonds by Paul Celan )
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