In Praise of Distance

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In the spring of your eyes
live the nets of the fishermen of the mad sea.
In the spring of your eyes
the sea keeps its promises.

Here I, a heart
that has dwelt among humans,
cast off my clothes and the lustre of an oath:

blacker in black, I am more naked.
Only now disloyal am I faithful.
I am you when I am I

in the spring of your eyes
I drift and dream of plunder.

A net catches a net
we part embracing.

In the spring of your eyes
a hanged man strangles the rope. 

*******
✍  Paul Celan (Czernovitz, Romania, November 23, 1920 ~ Paris, France, April 20, 1970).
◙ Artwork: John William Waterhouse

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