Paul Celan / Language Mesh (Sprachgitter)
LANGUAGE MESH
Eye’s roundness between the bars.
Vibratile monad eyelid
propels itself upward,
releases a glance.
Iris, swimmer, dreamless and dreary:
the sky, heart-grey, must be near.
Athwart, in the iron holder,
the smoking splinter.
By its sense of light
you divine the soul.
(If I were like you. If you were like me.
Did we not stand
under one trade wind?
We are strangers.)
The flagstones. On them,
close to each other, the two
heart-grey puddles:
two
mouthsfull of silence.
Paul Celan
Michael Hamburger, trans.
word pond 
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