Thursday, April 13, 2006

Paul Celan: The clinker game

Landscape with urn creatures.
Conversations
from smoke to smoke mouth.

They eat:
those madhouse truffles, a chunk
of unburied poetry,
found a tongue and a tooth.

A tear rolls back into its eye.

The left-hand, orphaned
half of the pilgrim's
shell - they gave it to you,
then they fettered you -
listening, floodlights the scene:

the clinker game against death
can begin.


(Trad. Michael Hamburger)