Threadsuns
By Paul Celan
Translated By Pierre Joris
Threadsuns
above the grayblack wastes.
A tree-
high thought
grasps the light-tone: there are
still songs to sing beyond
mankind.
I heard you howling
from the depths
of me.
You were the scream
and I
was the still night air,
You whispered from
inside,
the simple truth
that there isn't a priest
with a cross big enough
to exorcise you
from me.
You will haunt
and slam…
A gentle touch, a helping hand, can mend the broken, mend the land.
With strength within, a whispered plea, to lift the spirit, wild and free.
A beacon bright, a guiding star, to those who struggle, near and far.
With power and grace, we strive to…