Amos Weisz translating

Paul Celan, "Todtnauberg" (from Lichtzwang)


Arnica, eyebright, the
drink from the well with the
star-die on it,

in the
hut,

written into this book
— whose name did it receive
before mine? —
into this book
the line of
a hope, today,
for a thinker's
coming
word
in the heart,

wood meadows, unevened,
orchid and orchid, individually,

crude stuff, later, while travelling,
clearly,

who travels us, the human
who hears it too,

the half-
stepped fascine
paths in the high moor,

dampness,
much.