of language; rather, they are simultaneous with it. And this to the extent that it is precisely in the naming of the gods and in the world becoming word that authentic conversation, which we ourselves are, consists.
But the gods can come to expression only if they themselves address us and place us under their claim. A word which names the gods is always an answer to such a claim. Its answer always springs from the responsibility of a destiny. Only because the gods bring our existence to language do we enter the realm of the decision concerning whether we are to promise ourselves to the gods or whether we are to deny ourselves to them.
Only now can we fully judge what this line means: "Since we have been a conversation...." Since the gods have brought us into conversation, since that time is there time, since then the ground of our existence has been a conversation. The statement that language is the highest event of human existence thus receives its significance and foundation.
But the question at once arises: How does this conversation, which we are, begin? Who performs the naming of the gods? Who takes hold of something enduring in torrential time and brings it to stand in the word? Hölderlin tells us this with the secure simplicity of the poet. Let us listen to a fourth of his key verses. {GA 4: 41}
This line forms the conclusion of the poem "Remembrance" and reads: "But what remains is founded by the poets" (IV, 63). This line throws light on our question of the essence of poetry. Poetry is a founding by the word and in the word. What is established in this way? What remains. But how can what remains be founded? Is it not that which has always already been present? No! Precisely what remains must be secured against being carried away; the simple must be wrested from the complex, measure must be opposed to excess. What supports and dominates beings as a whole must come into the open. Being must be disclosed, so that beings may appear. But even this, though it remains, is transitory. "Everything heavenly is