Poems by Paul Celan
Sorted by title, showing title and first line
In Kohln, a town of monks and bones,
Autunm eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends.
not on my lips look for your mouth,
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown
tall poplars -- human beings of this earth!
Most brightly of all burned the hair of my evening loved one:
In the story of Patroclus
more fully,
The line