But now shrinks the place where you stand: Where now, stripped by shade, will you go? — Paul Celan


Remember when words fell on the soft ground of your mind like big droplets of rain?

Or when they rose up like incense smoke in the temple like a naked goddess taking shape?

… Drenched by the rain they roam now in the city of allusions.

And rent a cheap flat in the towers of alliterations.

Or they walk the dusty streets like a green bird that has lost its way to the nest.

From time to time, they squint at the sky to make out the stars, their old friends.

But the city hides the universe in its thick smoke of boredom and desire.

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