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by Emily

Paul Celan

With all my thoughts I went
right out of the world: there you were,
you my gentle one, you my open one, and —
you took us in.

Who
says it all died out for us
when our eye dimmed?
It all awoke, all started up.

Huge, a sun came drifting, bright
against it stood soul and soul, clear,
they forced a silence in its path.

Easily
your womb opened up, softly
a breath rose in the air
and what turned to cloud — wasn’t it,
wasn’t it a shape and of our making,
was it not
as good as a name?

Another Celan poem. The first and last stanza of this poem are everything I want.

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