Where am I

by Paul Celan

Where am I

The dangers, all,
with their appliance,
hickishly gamey,

the heavensfallow hoisted,

the losses, chalkmouthed—you
upright mouths, you tables!—
in the disangled town,
harnessed to glimmerhackneys,

—goldtrace, counterheaved

the bridges, overjoyed by the stream,

love, up there in the branch,
niggling at the coming-escaping

the Great Light
elevated to a spark,
on the right of the rings
and all gain.