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2005-02-13 - 6:09 p.m.

Memory of France


Together with me recall: the sky of Paris, that giant autumn crocus...
We went shopping for hearts at the flower girl's booth: they were blue and they opened up in the water.
It began to rain in our room,
and our neighbour came in. Monsieur Le Songe, a lean little man.
We played cards, I lost the irises of my eyes;
you lent me your hair, I lost it, he struck us down.
He left by the door, the rain followed him out.
We were dead and were able to breathe.

by Paul Celan




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