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
Added by Poetry Lover
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