Paul Celan (1920-1970) – Aspen Tree
Aspen Tree, your leaves glance white into the dark.
My mother’s hair was never white.
Dandelion, so green is the Ukraine.
My yellow-haired mother did not come home.
Rain cloud, above the well do you hover?
My quiet mother weeps for everyone.
Round star, you wind the golden loop.
My mother’s heart was ripped by lead.
Oaken door, who lifted you off your hinges?
My gentle mother cannot return.
Posted on May 28, 2012, in Art, Artists, Culture, Education, Paul Celan, Poetry, Poets, Writers and tagged Aspen Tree, best poets, famous poets, golden loop, Great Poems, Great Poets, home, nature, Paul Celan, poems, Poetry, Poets, Travel, vacation, winter, Writers. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.
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