A Chorus of Clouds: Nelly Sachs

We are full of sighs, full of glances,

We are full of laughter,

and sometimes we wear your faces.

We are not far from you.

Who knows how much of your blood rose

And stained us?

We play at dying,

accustom you gently to death.

You, the inexperienced, who learn nothing from the nights.

Many angels are given you

But you do not see them.

Excerpt from Chorus of Clouds, by Nelly Sachs,

translated by Ruth & Matthew Mead