0 little root of a dream <br />you hold me here <br />undermined by blood, <br />no longer visible to anyone, <br />property of death. <br /> <br />Curve a face <br />that there may be speech, of earth, <br />of ardor, of <br />things with eyes, even <br />here, where you read me blind, <br /> <br />even <br />here, <br />where you <br />refute me, <br />to the letter. <br /> <br />translated by Heather McHugh and Nikolai Popov<br /><br />Paul Celan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/o-little-root-of-a-dream/
