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…
Busy old fool, unruly sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school boys and sour…
AS my Family and I camped out top of NJ. Unbeknownst to them the danger that existed round, I kept silent, but my anger showed through, not towards them but on them, none the less.
Embrace of the Mother Tree
In whispers green, her branches weave,
A tapestry of life, where dreams believe.
Nurturing roots in earth’s embrace,
Guarding tender hearts, our sacred space.