O Little Root of a Dream

Paul Celan

O little root of a dream
you hold me here
undermined by blood,
no longer visible to anyone,
property of death.

Curve a face
that there may be speech, of earth,
of ardor, of
things with eyes, even
here, where you read me blind,

where you
refute me,
to the letter.

Glottal Stop: 101 Poems by Paul Celan

Last updated August 30, 2011