Breathchrystal
I.
YOU MAY confidently
ragale me with snow:
as often as I strode through summer
shoulder to shoulder with the mulberry tree,
its youngest leaf
shrieked
II.
PATHS IN THE SHADOW-BREAK
of your hand.
From the four-finger-furrow
I root up the
petrified blessing.
Paul Celan (1920 – 1970)