Just like the blood that bursts from Your eye or mouth or ear, so your key changes. remain, flowering: Such realities are, I think, at stake in a poem.” -- Paul Celan, “Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. the nothing--, the “Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won.”, “in the air, there your root remains, there, in the air”, “Poetry is perhaps this: an Atemwende, a turning of our breath. It passed through and gave back no words for that which happened; yet it passed through this happening. Just like the wind that rebuffs you, Clenched round your word is the snow.” -- Paul Celan, “in the air, there your root remains, there, in the air” -- Paul Celan, “you're rowing by wordlight” -- Paul Celan, “Death is a master from Germany.” -- Paul Celan, “He speaks truly who speaks the shade.” -- Paul Celan, “Only truthful hands write true poems. A poem, as a manifestation of language and thus essentially dialogue, can be a message in a bottle, sent out in the –not always greatly hopeful-belief that somewhere and sometime it could wash up on land, on heartland perhaps. I cannot see any basic difference between a handshake and a poem.

#Strong #Heart #Reality “Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. It, the language, remained, not lost, yes, in spite of everything.

Such realities are, I think, at stake in a poem.”, “Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. Toward what? I cannot see any basic difference between a handshake and a poem.”, “We are told that when Hölderlin went 'mad,' he constantly repeated, 'Nothing is happening to me, nothing is happening to me. Changing your key changes the word That may drift with flakes. Changing your key changes the word That may drift with flakes. Celan (2011). Such realities are, I think, at stake in a poem. German poetry is going in a very different direction from French poetry.... Its language has become more sober, more factual. In this way, too, poems are en route: they are headed towards. Share with your friends. Every day we present the best quotes! It, the language, remained, not lost, yes, in spite of everything. “Collected Prose”, p.15, Psychology Press, Paul Celan, Michael Hamburger (1972). “Selected poems”, Penguin Books Ltd, Paul Celan, Rosemarie Waldrop (2003). Perhaps, along with the I, estranged and freed here, in this manner, some other thing is also set free?”, “Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won.”, “How you die out in me: down to the last worn-out knot of breath you're there, with a splinter of life.”, “Count up the almonds, Count what was bitter and kept you waking, Count me in too: I sought your eye when you glanced up and no one would see you, I spun that secret thread Where the dew you mused on Slid down to pitchers Tended by a word that reached no one’s heart. It tries to be truthful.” -- Paul Celan, “A nothing we were, are, shall remain, flowering: the nothing--, the no one's rose.” -- Paul Celan, “The two heart-grey puddles: two mouthsfull of silence.” -- Paul Celan, “Tall poplars--human beings of this earth!” -- Paul Celan, “The heart hid still in the dark, hard as the Philosophers Stone.” -- Paul Celan, “A poem, being an instance of language, hence essentially dialogue, may be a letter in a bottle thrown out to the sea with the-surely not always strong-hope that it may somehow wash up somewhere, perhaps on the shoreline of the heart. Does this very fact not place the poem already here, at its inception, in the encounter, in the mystery of encounter?”, “German poetry is going in a very different direction from French poetry.... Its language has become more sober, more factual. It, the language, remained, not lost, yes, in spite of everything. Does this very fact not place the poem already here, at its inception, in the encounter, in the mystery of encounter?” -- Paul Celan, “German poetry is going in a very different direction from French poetry.... Its language has become more sober, more factual. And since the strange, the abyss and Medusa’s head, the abyss and the automaton, all seem to lie in the same direction—is it perhaps this turn, this Atemwende, which can sort out the strange from the strange? Celan (2011). “Collected Prose”, p.26, Psychology Press, Paul Celan, Rosemarie Waldrop (2003). Goodreads helps you follow your favorite authors.

Loving Psychoanalysis. "Tallow Lamp" in: Paul Celan (1972) Selected poems. Perhaps, along with the I, estranged and freed here, in this manner, some other thing is also set free?” -- Paul Celan, “Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won.” -- Paul Celan, “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, “Count up the almonds, Count what was bitter and kept you waking, Count me in too: I sought your eye when you glanced up and no one would see you, I spun that secret thread Where the dew you mused on Slid down to pitchers Tended by a word that reached no one’s heart. Toward something standing open, occupiable, perhaps toward an addressable Thou, toward an addressable reality.”, “There was earth inside them, and they dug.”, “Don't sign your name between worlds, surmount the manifold of meanings, trust the tearstain, learn to live.”, “Reachable, near and not lost, there remained in the midst of the losses this one thing: language. Toward what? Poems in this sense too are under way: they are making toward something. “Breathturn into Timestead: The Collected Later Poetry: A Bilingual Edition”, p.116, Macmillan, Paul Celan (2005). Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. Yes, language. It distrusts "beauty." It passed through and gave back no words for that which happened; yet it passed through this happening. Welcome back. Render me bitter. Render me bitter.

Celan (2011). But it had to pass through its own answerlessness, pass through frightful muting, pass through the thousand darknesses of deathbringing speech. It tries to be truthful. #Loss #Language #Spite “no one bears witness for the witness”-- Paul Celan . Toward what? It distrusts "beauty." Its author stays with it.

Sourced quotations by the Romanian Translator Paul Celan (1920 — 1970) about time, drink and death. In spite of everything, it remained secure against loss. Toward something open, inhabitable, an approachable you, perhaps, an approachable reality. p. 22; Aspen tree, your leaves glance white into the dark. in the air, there your root remains, there, in the air. “Autunm eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends. Don't sign your name between worlds, surmount the manifold of meanings, trust the tearstain, learn to live.

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