So Many Constellations
by Paul Celan
So many constellations, dis-
played to us. I was,
when I looked at you—when?—
outside with
the other worlds.
O, these paths, galactic,
O this hour that billowed
the nights over to us into
the burden of our names. It is,
I know, not true,
that we lived, a mere
breath blindly moved between
there and not-there and sometimes,
comet-like an eye whizzed
toward extinguished matter, in the canyons,
there where it burned out, stood
tit-gorgeous time, along
which grew up and down
& away what
is or was or will be—,
I know,
I know and you know, we knew,
we didn’t know, for we
were there and not there,
and sometimes, when
only Nothingness stood between us, we
found truly together.
From Memory Rose into Threshold Speech: The Collected Earlier Poetry, 2020. Translated by Pierre Joris