Poetry of Paul Celan

Speak-
But hold all depends unsplit

I make no claims. I'm not so presumptuous on give the feeling of having telescoped like a Galileo into Paul Celan’s poetic cosmos, his crumbling movie stars and dug up black holes, and a breathing, foaming character of life that is indestructible when confronted with annihilation.

So all I will do here is wait to that stony oppression bearing upon my heart because of the ferocious energy of his verse; the things I will do here's convey one thing associated with havoc wrought in me personally through

Therefore all i shall do let me reveal hold on to that particular stony oppression bearing down on my heart by the ferocious energy of their verse; the things I will do the following is convey some thing of havoc wrought in myself through a method as lamentably limited as terms on some type of computer display screen.

It is not easy. Not many who possess seen discomfort, distress, and demise therefore close up can generate an intellectual distance that permits them to show their particular harrowing knowledge into a language of poetry that purifies the misfortunes of presence in a way regarding transform them into a song – a song of death.

When I charted their poetic trip i ran across someone who had been attempting to unlive their knowledge by removing himself – the we – from their writings by exposing the dialectic of struggling to careful, pristine forms that elevated their words far above the confines of 'the nasty rag-and-bone shop regarding the heart'.

Let me reveal Celan’s most well-known poem Fugue of Death which fits the epithet of terrible beauty to a tee. He catches his direct connection with a Jewish captive in Nazi death camps by turning it into 'black milk'. (I am quoting first couple of outlines with a link to your total poem)

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at nightfall
we drink it at noon each day we drink it at night
drink it and drink it
we have been looking a grave into the sky it is ample to lay indeed there
A person in the house he plays with all the serpents he writes
he writes once the night falls to Germany your golden
hair Margarete
he writes it and walks from home the movie stars glitter
he whistles their puppies up
he whistles their Jews out and requests a grave to be dug in
our planet
he commands united states hit up for party
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink within the mornings at noon we drink you at

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