(born Cernăuţi, Bukovina, Kingdom of Romania, current Chernivtsi, Ukraine - c. , Paris) was a poet and translator. He was born as Paul Antschel into a Jewish family in Romania, and changed his name to "Paul Celan" (where Celan in Romanian would be pronounced Chelan, and was derived from Ancel, pronounced Antshel), becoming one of the major German-language poets of the post-World War II era.
Celan was born in 1920 into a German-speaking Jewish family in Cernăuţi, Northern Bukovina, a region then part of Romania and earlier part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, among others (now part of Ukraine). His father, Leo ... more »
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Paul Celan Poems
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night we drink it and drink it we dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined
No-man kneads us again out of Earth and Loam, no-man spirits our Dust. No-man.
Autunm eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends. From the nuts we shell time and we teach it to walk: then time returns to the shell.
Fugue of Death
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at nightfall we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night we drink it and drink it we are digging a grave in the sky it is ample to lie there
Your hand full of hours, you came to me – and I said: ‘Your hair is not brown.’ You lifted it, lightly, on to the balance of grief, it was heavier than I.
In Front of a Candle
I formed the holder of gold, as you told me to mother, gold, out of which She comes, a shade, to me, in the middle of fracturing hours, your being-dead’s daughter.
Most brightly of all burned the hair of my evening loved one: to her I send the coffin of lightest wood. Waves billow round it as round the bed of our dream in Rome; it wears a white wig as I do and speaks hoarsely:
not on my lips look for your mouth, not in front of the gate for the stranger, not in the eye for the tear.
tall poplars -- human beings of this earth! black pounds of happiness -- you mirror them to death! I saw you, sister, stand in that effulgence.
The line that remained, that became true: . . . your house in Paris -- become
O Little Root of a Dream
0 little root of a dream you hold me here undermined by blood, no longer visible to anyone,
This Evening Also
more fully, since snow fell even on this sun-drifted, sun-drenched sea, blossoms the ice in those baskets
I Can Still See You
I can still see you: an Echo, to be touched with Feeler- Words, on the Parting- Ridge.
Count The Almonds
Count the Almonds, count, what was bitter, watched for you, count me in:
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Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown
we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night
we drink it and drink it
we dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined
A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents
he writes when dusk falls to Germany your golden
he writes it and steps out of doors and the stars are
flashing he whistles his pack out
he whistles his Jews out in earth has them dig for a
he commands us strike up for the dance
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at ...