Black milk of daybreak we drink it at evening
we drink it at midday and morning we drink it at night
we drink and we drink
we shovel a grave in the air where you won't lie too cramped
A man lives in the house he plays with his vipers he writes
he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair
Margareta
he writes it and steps out of doors and the stars are all sparkling he
whistles his hounds to stay close
he whistles his Jews into rows has them shovel a grave in the ground
he commands us play up for the dance
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at morning and midday we drink you at evening
we drink and we drink
A man lives in the house he plays with his vipers he writes
he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair
Margareta
Your ashen hair Shulamith we shovel a grave in the air
where you won't lie too cramped
He shouts dig this earth deeper you lot there you others sing up and play
he grabs for the rod in his belt he swings it his eyes are so blue
stick your spades deeper you lot there you others play on for the dancing
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at midday and morning we drink you at evening
we drink and we drink
a man lives in the house your goldenes Haar Margareta
your aschenes Haar Shulamith he plays with his vipers
* * *
He shouts play death more sweetly this Death is a master from
Deutschland
he shouts scrape your strings darker you'll rise up as smoke to the sky
you'll then have a grave in the clouds where you won't lie too cramped
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at midday Death is a master aus Deutschland
we drink you at evening and morning we drink and we drink
this Death is ein Meister aus Deutschland his eye it is blue
he shoots you with shot made of lead shoots you level and true
a man lives in the house your goldenes Haar Margarete
he looses his hounds on us grants us a grave in the air
he plays with his vipers and daydreams der Tod ist ein Meister aus
Deutschland
dein goldenes Haar Margarete
dein aschenes Haar Sulamith
Paul Celan –
Bademlerden Say Beni
Say bademleri,
say acı olanı,
uyanık tutanı say,
beni de onlara
kat:
Gözünü arardım
hep, gözünü açtığında,
sana kimselerin bakmadığı bir anda,
örerdim ya o
saklı, o gizli ipliği ben,
ki onun üzerinde
tasarladığın çiy’in
testilere doğru
kaydığı bir zamanda,
yüreğe varamamış
öz bir sözle korunan.
Ancak böyle
varırdın adına, senin olan,
o şaşmaz adımlarla
kendine yürüyerek,
savrulurdu
çekiçler sanki bir çan kulesi
boşluğundaymış
gibi senin suskunluğunun.
Ölmüş olan o şey
senin koluna girer
ve işittiklerin de
seninle birleşirdi,
üç olup giderdiniz
geceyi katederek.
Beni de acı yap, acı yap beni.
Bademlerden say beni.
Paul Celan
