Verordnet Diesem Geschlecht Keinen Glauben
Do not decree faith on this race,
stars, ships and smoke are enough;
it is concerned with things, determines
stars and mathematical infinity,
and a trait, call it trait of love,
emerges more purely from it all.
The heavens hang limp, and stars come loose
from the juncture with moon and night.
poem by Ingeborg Bachmann
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