Paul Celan. (№ 300278)

Black milk of dawn we drink it evenings
we drink it at midday and morning we drink it at night
drink
we dig a grave in the air space will not be crowded
In that house lives Mr. he plays with the snakes he writes
he writes after dark to Germany
on your Golden hair Margaret
he writes and stands in front of the house and Shine the constellations
he whistles his hounds
he visittibet let their Jews digging a grave in the ground
he tells us now play dance