Charles Baudelaire
Alas! everything is an abyss — action, desire, dreams,Words! — Charles Baudelaire, from “The Abyss,” The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
Category: Symbolism
Paul Celan,
the wilding convictionthat this is to be said differently thanso. —Paul Celan, from Breathturn into Timestead: The Collected Later Poetry, transl. by Pierre Joris (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2014)
Paul Celan
PLAYTIME: the windows, they too,read you all that secrecyfrom your whirlsand mirror itin the jelly-eyed beyond[…]strengthenedthe hour stops next to you,you speak,you stand,most firm abovethe parabelized messengersby voiceby matter. —Paul Celan, from Breathturn into Timestead: The Collected Later Poetry, transl. by Pierre Joris (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2014)
Paul Celan
And the too much of my speaking:heaped up round the littlecrystal dressed in the style of your silence. — Paul Celan, from “Below,” Poetry Magazine December 1971
Charles Baudelaire
I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on,The windows and the stars illumined, one by one,The rivers of dark smoke pour upward lazily,And the moon rise and turn them silver. I shall seeThe springs, the summers, and the autumns slowly pass;And when old Winter puts his blank face to the glass,I… Continue reading Charles Baudelaire
Paul Celan
What is returning?Nearly nothing, but it could be a snowflake — Paul Celan, “Questions & Answers,” Romanian Poems (Green Integer, 2003)
Paul Celan
What is returning?Nearly nothing, but it could be a snowflake — Paul Celan, “Questions & Answers,” Romanian Poems (Green Integer, 2003)
Paul Celan
Yes, me, I prefer the hourglass so you can smash it whenI tell you of eternity’s lie — Paul Celan, “[Blinded by giant leaps],” Romanian Poems (Green Integer, 2003)
Paul Celan
How you die out in me: down to the lastworn-outknot of breathyou’re there, with asplinterof life. ― Paul Celan, Poems of Paul Celan. (Anvil Press Poetry November 9, 1995) Originally published 1972.
Charles Baudelaire
I am an old boudoir full of withered roses. — Charles Baudelaire, from “Spleen,” Fleurs de Mal/The Flowers of Evil. Translated by William Aggeler. (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
The Vale of Soul-Making 