Paul Celan, Praise of Distance (from Poppy and Memory)

"In the springs of your eyes

Live the Madsea fishermen’s nets.

In the spring of your eyes

the sea keeps its promise.

Here, as a heart

that abode among humans,

I throw off my clothes and the glare of an oath.

Blacker in black, am I more naked.

Apostate only am I true.

I am you, when I am I.

In the springs of your eyes

I drift on and dream of spoils.

A net snared a net:

embracing we sever.

In the springs of your eyes

a hanged man strangles the rope."