#70 So Many Constellations (Paul Celan, trad. Pierre Joris)

Hay algo un tanto sobrecogedor en el poema que transmite bien ese algo sobrecogedor que lo envuelve a uno al mirar estrellas. Lo que me recuerda que hace mucho que no lo hago como lo hacía en otros tiempos. Este verano será. Tengo un plan en remojo a las montañas que espero que me devueltas todas las constelaciones.

(via)

SO MANY CONSTELLATIONS

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.