rosily aroused

        Psalm                                                                       



No one kneads us again out of earth and clay
no-One summons our dust.
No one.
Blessed art thou, No One.
In thy sight would
we bloom. In thy
spite .
A nothing
we were, are now, and ever
shall be, blooming:
the nothing-,
the No-One’s- Rose.
With
our pistil soul-bright,
our stamen heaven-waste,
our corona red
from the purpleword we sang
over, oh over
the thorn.



                       Paul Celan

                                           trans. John Felstiner









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