Biography

Born November 23, 1920 in Czernovitz, Romania

Died May 1, 1970 in Paris France

Ethnicity Jewish, Nationality Romanian

Residence Paris, France, Bucharest, Hungary, Vienna, Austria

Other occupations Medical student, Labor Camp Worker, Psychiatric Field Surgeon, Translator

Paul Antschel was born in 1920 in Czernovitz, a small Romanian town now part of Ukraine, to a pair of German speaking Jews. Antschel excelled academically, becoming fluent in both French and Hebrew, before leaving in 1938 to study medicine in Tours, France. He studied medicine for a year before returning home to pursue his passion for romance languages and literature. Paul was studying Russian at the local university when Russian troops occupied the city in 1940. Fortunately, he was able to continue his studies in a sporadic manner during the occupation. The following year German troops drove out the Russians and forced Paul and his family into a Jewish ghetto. Up to this point, Celan was a smart young man, able to handle himself with a diligent, if not altogether happy, attitude. The German occupation provided Paul with his first experience of the darker side of human nature, a side he was to explore and struggle with the rest of his life. Though unable to continue his formal studies, Celan continued his study of Russian and translated Russian poets such as Yesenin, a poet who praised the woodsy peasant life and later became a bitter drunk. He also made his first serious attempt at writing poems. Shortly the German invasion, his parents were deported to a concentration camp where they both perished: his father by typhus, his mother by a gunshot in the neck. Paul somehow escaped arrest, but was later forced into a labor camp to do road work for 18 months. As the labor camp dissolved, he escaped and briefly joined the Red Army before returning home to what remained of his family. Paul turned to poetry to deal with the traumatic experiences of the war, composing his most famous poem, Death Fugue, in 1944. Paul did a stint as a psychiatric field surgeon before traveling to Bucharest in 1945 to resume his studies. In Bucharest, he joined a local surrealist group and befriended a number of leading Romanian writers, while studying, working as a reader for a publishing house and translator. He continued to versify and published a few poems under different pseudonyms before settling on Celan, a transmutation of Ancel, the Romanian form of his last name. Celan snuck out of Bucharest in 1947 and went to Vienna for six months where he became actively involved with a group of avant-garde writers and painters with whom he co-authored a few prose pieces. He also published his first work, an error ridden collection of poetry he later withdrew. Paul then settled in Paris in 1948 where he remained the rest of his life. He obtained a degree in German philology and literature from L'Ecole Normale Superieure in 1950 and began lecturing at the same institution two years later, eventually securing a full professorship in German literature in 1959. Celan quickly insinuated himself into the Parisian creative community that was just starting to make its presence felt around the world. He knew most of the soon-to-be world famous artists and writers of the time and made a number of lifelong friends among this group. In 1949, Celan was accused of plagiarizing a prominent German poet, Goll, by the poet's wife, an accusation that plagued Celan until the end of his life and added a sense of paranoia to a psyche that had nearly shattered under the strains of his wartime experience. In 1952, Celan married a graphic artist named Gisèle de Lestrange and the couple had two children, one who died as infant in 1953 and a son in 1955. The 1952 republication of Celan?s first book of poetry brought him immediate recognition for his vivid and disturbing evocation of the holocaust. He continued to publish regularly throughout the 50's, winning greater public recognition and a number of awards, if not greater peace of mind. His poetry at this time was still somewhat socially concerned, mixing elements of expressionism and surrealism. In addition to his own poems, he remained active as a German translator of French, English and Russian literature. Celan viewed these translations as linguistic creations in their own right, which required the same serious creative effort as his original poetic work. In 1958, Celan won the Breman prize and gave an acceptance speech that discussed his personal and spiritual ties to the German language, and how he used language to shape his world and relate to others. His 1960 acceptance speech for the Georg Büchner prize laid out his Martin Buber influenced poetic theory that concerns the impossibility of language and purpose of poetry in connecting the subjective I with others and the outside world. Starting in the 1960's, Paul wrote poems that focused on his private world instead of the external historical concerns on which his reputation rested. As his poetic symbolism became more opaque and hermetic, his readership declined. The poems of his later life reflect a turbulent emotional life, revealing an obsessive, easily wounded psyche prone to mental collapse. Another Rumanian writer and personal friend, Emile Cioran, once described Celan as a man 'profoundly wounded....too tormented to take refuge in skepticism.' Instead, Celan took refuge at the bottom of the Seine. He committed suicide by throwing himself off a bridge and drowning in May of 1970.

His most famous poem is probably Death Fugue. Here is the English and then the German version.

Death Fugue

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

he writes when dusk falls to Germany your golden hair Margarete

he writes it ans 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 grave

he commands us strike up for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night

we drink you in the morning at noon we drink you at sundown

we drink and we drink you

A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents he writes

he writes when dusk falls to Germany your golden hair Margarete

your ashen hair Sulamith we dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined

He calls out jab deeper into the earth you lot you others sing now and play

he grabs at the iron in his belt he waves it his eyes are blue

jab deeper you lot with your spades you others play on for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night

we drink you at at noon in the morning we drink you at sundown

we drink and we drink you

a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete

your ashen hair Sulamith he plays with the serpents

He calls out more sweetly play death death is a master from Germany

he calls out more darkly now stroke your strings then as smoke you will rise into air

then a grave you will have in the clouds there one lies unconfined

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night

we drink you at noon death is a master from Germany

we drink you at sundown and in the morning we drink and we drink you

death is a master from Germany his eyes are blue

he strikes you with leaden bullets his aim is true

a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete

he sets his pack on to us he grants us a grave in the air

He plays with the serpents and daydreams death is a master from Germany

your golden hair Margarete

your ashen hair Shulamith

Todesfuge

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken sie abends

wir trinken sie mittags und morgens wir trinken sie nachts

wir trinken und trinken

wir schaufeln ein Grab in den Lüften da liegt man nicht eng

Ein Mann wohnt im Haus der spielt mit den Schlangen der schreibt

der schreibt wenn es dunkelt nach Deutschland dein goldenes Haar Margarete

er schreibt es und tritt vor das Haus und es blitzen die Sterne er pfeift seine Rüden herbei

er pfeift seine Juden hervor läßt schaufeln ein Grab in der Erde

er befiehlt uns spielt auf nun zum Tanz

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts

wir trinken dich morgens und mittags wir trinken dich abends

wir trinken und trinken

Ein Mann wohnt im Haus der spielt mit den Schlangen der schreibt

der schreibt wenn es dunkelt nach Deutschland dein goldenes Haar Margarete

Dein aschenes Haar Sulamith wir schaufeln ein Grab in den Lüften da liegt man nicht eng

Er ruft stecht tiefer ins Erdreich ihr einen ihr andern singet und spielt

er greift nach dem Eisen im Gurt er schwingts seine Augen sind blau

stecht tiefer die Spaten ihr einen ihr andern spielt weiter zum Tanz auf

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts

wir trinken dich mittags und morgens wir trinken dich abends

wir trinken und trinken

ein Mann wohnt im Haus dein goldenes Haar Margarete

dein aschenes Haar Sulamith er spielt mit den Schlangen

Er ruft spielt süßer den Tod der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland

er ruft streicht dunkler die Geigen dann steigt ihr als Rauch in die Luft

dann habt ihr ein Grab in den Wolken da liegt man nicht eng

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts

wir trinken dich mittags der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland

wir trinken dich abends und morgens wir trinken und trinken

der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland sein Auge ist blau

er trifft dich mit bleierner Kugel er trifft dich genau

ein Mann wohnt im Haus dein goldenes Haar Margarete

er hetzt seine Rüden auf uns er schenkt uns ein Grab in der Luft

er spielt mit den Schlangen und träumet der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland

dein goldenes Haar Margarete

dein aschenes Haar Sulamith