Beneath ice imagery Celan conceals a deep-seated attitude about his Jewishness. He was reserved when he discussed his religion, much of what he felt he hid from others. Especially later in his life, when he began suffering from delusional bouts of paranoia, he hid his Jewish identity and convoluted much of his religious imagery in obscure metaphors. In a letter to Edith Silbermann on the 8th of September 1963 he wrote, "Ich habe als Jude und deutscher Schriftsteller keinen leichten Stand" (Buck 8). He recognized the tension between his occupation and the necessity to voice his opinions about his past. It was about this same time in the mid to late 1960s that he began combining Jewish themes with ice imagery in his poems. Gerhart Baumann indicates Celan's awareness of his religious ancestry in his later years and states: "wie Celan zunehmend bewußter sich seiner Anfänge in Czernowitz entsann, daß er wieder wurde, was zu sein er zwischenzeitlich beinahe aufgegeben: ein jüdischer Dichter aus der Heimat der chassidischen Geschichten" (Baumann 136). This awakening of his own Jewishness in conjunction with images of cold indicates a concern for his personal religious identity. Peter Mayer indicates that entire purpose of Celan's literary career was to understand more fully his Jewish heritage: "er dichtete, um Jude zu werden" (Mayer 171). 7
Celan captures these religious values within crystalline images. One unique property of crystals is their mirroring as well as distorting effect on the optical spectrum. When seen in its literal sense, the frequent use of the word Kristall might remind the reader of the 9th-10th of November 1938, otherwise known in the German as Kristallnacht ("Spur," Pöggeler 218). The distorting effect of this night further silenced the Jews. Any feelings of protest or outrage for their treatment was soon silenced under a blanket of fear and repression.
Throughout Celan's poetry a sense of frustration emerges for his loss of religion and identity under the Nazis. These feelings also surface in his glacial imagery. One poem in particular, DAS FLÜSTERHAUS (GW III, 83-84), uses glacial imagery in connection with the death of his fellow Jews. Here the word Gletscher makes one of its infrequent appearances. Based on a evocation of the Jewish dead, the Geschrei in the poem suggests the futility and pain of their hopeless situation:
dieses, ja dieses
Gletschergeschrei
deiner Hände,die Toten-Seilschaft
trägt mit an den Firnen,der umgepolte
Mond
verwirft dich, zweite
Erde,
Combined with other images in the poem, the Geschrei carries with it not only the implication of a literal sound, but also a religious weight. The Seilschaft can be either a company of climbers tied together by a rope or a secret group. Their death adds a mysterious element to the poem. The glacier becomes a land of death where the forces of life fluctuate between positive and negative charges.
The act of crying out suggests a creative aspect to the poem. Lyon points to other poems where: "Das poetische Hauchen (oder einzelnen Lautes) wird als Schöpfungsakt dargestellt" ("Physiologie," Lyon 599). The glacial cry here is not only creative, but is reminiscent of the procreative breath of God. The glacier acts similarly to God's creative powers when it calves. In an act of self destruction, it creates. When seen in its literal as well as religious forms, this Geschrei suggests a creative destruction and suffering.
Another instance where glacial elements allude to religion is in the beginning of the poem WEGGEBEIZT. Pöggeler notes that the Strahlenwind mentioned, which is etched from the poetic voice's language, has a multi-faceted form and meaning: "Dieser Strahlenwind ist nicht nur Sonne und Wind, auch nicht nur der kosmische Sonnenwind; zu ihm gehört auch der Wind der atomaren Strahlung von Hiroshima" ("Symbol," Pöggeler 353). The wind could have both heavenly as well as destructive implications. The cosmic wind is the solar wind or the stream of particles that radiate from the sun. Seen in its religious context, the wind can be the will of God and his influence on earthly events, while the atomic wind from a nuclear blast has a definite man-made destructive effect. When seen in connection with the Jews, this radiant wind becomes God's will concerning the Jewish Holocaust.
An important relationship between Celan's ice poetry and that of his Jewishness is found in the words Wabeneis and Milch. Both are used directly in connection with glacial images. The importance of honeycomb shapes lies in their hexagonal form. In the last stanza, Wabeneis corresponds directly to the physical form of the crystals and to the Zeugnis, or testimony, that is immovable. The reference to depth prompts not only a sense of being physically deep, but also finding oneself deep within a convention such as the Jewish religion. Here the poetic voice is "deep within the cleft of time" or immersed in the ways and traditions of the Jewish people. The alveolar ice or Star of David represents this people. Immersed within the ways, or the language of snow, the true religion emerges. Again the glacier stands as an optimistic, physical representation of the Jewish people. Only by entering deep into its teachings and symbolism can the true essence be reached.
Wabeneis and Milch are also images of nourishment. Similar to the nourishment that the honeycomb provides for bees, milk also nurtures body and soul. In later poems, milk, as a metaphor, divulges information which some are not ready to believe or accept, such as the Holocaust's factuality. In the poem DIE ZWISCHENEIN- (GW II, 143), he uses the word Gletschermilch to indicate the excess runoff from a glacier, or the purity that spills off from truth:
DIE ZWISCHENEIN-
gehagelte Hilfe
wächst,der Namenbau
setzt aus,die Gletschermilch karrt
die Vollwüchsigen durch
das schwimmende Ziel
ihrer unbeirrbaren
Brände.
Celan uses the technical term Gletschermilch to indicate those Jews or Vollwüchsigen who are carried away from their religion or truth. The use of the term Namenbau indicates perhaps the redefining of names among the Jewish inmates. The Nazis, through dehumanizing processes, took away the Jews' names and gave them numbers instead. The numbers tattooed on their arms became the distinguishing marks. Identity was based on a technical system rather than a linguistical system. The Gletschermilch sloughs away those who then die and go to their unbeirrbaren Brände. The Brände is both the heat that melts the ice and forms the Milch as well as the ovens of the Nazis where the human remains were cremated. The glacial milk is that truth which carries the Jews through the Holocaust; it sustains their identity and religion.
In many instances snow carries a negative connotation in Celan's works. According to Jerry Glenn, while certain seasons suggest warmth, companionship, and hope, snow suggests the opposite (Glenn 137). In MIT WECHSELNDEM SCHLÜSSEL (GW I, 112), snow also denotes the Schnee des Verschwiegenen, i.e. the silence associated with death and the lack of verbalization. It muffles vibrations in the air while absorbing all sounds. This lack of sound does not suggest something entirely negative. For Celan this silence indicates a time of reflection. Snow is the protective outer covering, not only in a physical sense, but also as a spiritual covering for mind and belief. As it encases the poetic voice metaphorically, it hardens and insulates the fragile idea inside. The last line of the poem best demonstrates this feeling of encasement: "Um das Wort ballt sich der Schnee." Here the Wort describes not just a spoken word. It can also be a holy word or being. For Celan, the snow becomes this soft insulation that protects the inner spiritual persona.
In the poem ANGEWINTERTES (GW II, 222), the poetic voice is forced into a cold environment, hard and immune to the elements, yet alive like a pomegranate, nurturing the seeds for a rebirth.
ANGEWINTERTES Windfeld: hier
mußt du leben, körnig, granatapfelgleich,
aufgeharscht von
zu verschweigendem Vorfrost,
den Schriftzug der Finsterung mitten
im goldgelben Schatten - doch nie
warst du nur Vogel und Frucht -
der sternbespieenen
überschall-Schwinge,
die du
ersangst.
The hardening of snow and frost is comparable to the hardness of an egg. In the latter part of the poem, the words Vogel and Schwinge further reinforce this idea. The phrase "hier / mußt du leben" supports the idea of the egg as the nurturing environment within which life develops. The hardening from the opposition and cold allows for a period of metamorphosis from which something positive later emerges. The word Eisvogel, used earlier in the poem WALDIG (GW I, 116), also stresses this connection between the encasing of the word within a shell-like structure: "Du wiegst es hinab zu den Wassern, / darin sich der Eisvogel spiegelt, / nahe am Nirgends der Nester. / Du wiegst es hinab durch die Schneise, / die tief in der Baumglut nach Schnee giert, / du wiegst es hinüber zum Wort, / das dort nennt, was schon weiß ist an dir." The poetic voice or du must first descend down into the water, another term for language, before the Eisvogel can be reached. To attain the pure word, snow must be transversed. Here, too, snow acts as a protective boundary, protecting word and identity. Yet at the same time it contains a dual property intersecting two different worlds. This dichotomy is the world of the dead (Eis) and the Living (Vogel) (Janz 64).
In a similar manner Celan describes Jews as they travail through the metaphorical cold of persecution. As if into an egg, the Jews retreated into themselves when faced with the Nazi terror and the concentration camps. The suffering they endured became a form of Last or burden that many simply shouldered and endured. The same Last that Celan uses to describe language: "weil seine Worte (Gebärden und Bewegungen) unter der tausendjährigen Last falscher und entstellter Aufrichtigkeit stöhnten" (GW III, 157, italics added) also applies to the Jewish people. They carry the weight of their identity and religion. The thousand years of suffering in connection with their religion, from captivity to pogroms to the final Endlösung, all fall under this millennial burden.
The silence that snow conveys can also be interpreted as divine in nature. According to André Neher, silence is a form of communication. In the book of Job, God finally breaks his long silence, but only in order to replace the ethical silence with a meta-ethical silence. When God decides to speak, it is through his creation (Neher 874). Likewise, Celan shows a meta-silence or snow breaking through God's silence. In snow one finds the means of interaction between heaven and earth, the snow being the medium whereby the heavenly will is transmitted. Snow becomes the frozen language carried from the heavens to earth. Jews view the Hebrew language as being given from God. Since language and snow are interconnected in Celan's poems, they form a powerful metaphor for God's communication, if any, with his people. Celan uses this metaphor again in his extremely Jewish poem HÜTTENFENSTER (GW I, 278-279). It is replete with Jewish imagery as well as geological and astronomical imagery. One of the most important lines is the reference to the Jews as both Menschen and as das Volk-vom-Gewölk or people of the clouds, referring to the cloud that led Israel through the wilderness.
HÜTTENFENSTER
Das Aug, dunkel:
als Hüttenfenster. Es sammelt,
was Welt war, Welt bleibt: den Wander- ;
Osten, die
Schwebenden, die
Menschen-und-Juden,
das Volk-vom-Gewölk, magnetisch
ziehts, mit Herzfingern, an
dir, Erde:
du kommst, du kommst,
wohnen werden wir, wohnen, etwas- ein Atem? ein Name? -
geht im Verwaisten umher,
tänzerisch, klobig,
die Engels-
schwinge, schwer von Unsichtbarem, am
wundgeschundenen fuß, kopf-
lastig getrimmt
vom Schwarzhagel, der
auch dort fiel, in Witebsk,- und sie, die ihn säten, sie
schreiben ihn weg
mit mimetischer Panzerfaustklaue! -,geht, geht umher,
sucht,
sucht unten,
sucht droben, fern, sucht
mit dem Auge, holt
Alpha Centauri herunter, Arktur, holt
den Strahl hinzu, aus den Gräbern,geht zu Ghetto und Eden, pflückt
das Sternbild zusammen, das er,
der Mensch, zum Wohnen braucht, hier,
unter Menschen,schreitet
die Buchstaben ab und der Buchstaben sterblich-
unsterbliche Seele,
geht zu Aleph und Jud und geht weiter,baut ihn, den Davidsschild, läßt ihn
aufflammen, einmal,
läßt ihn erlöschen - da steht er,
unsichtbar, steht
bei Alpha und Aleph, bei Jud,
bei den andern, bei
allen: in
dir,Beth, - das ist
das Haus, wo der Tisch steht mitdem Licht und dem Licht.
The images of the Ghetto, Eden and that of the Hebrew letters all make for a strong Jewish statement within the poem. Celan cites Jews and their language by name with the words: "geht zu Aleph und Jud und geht weiter." He uses also the word Schwarzhagel, which is similar to his later use of Schwarze Flocken. Both denote a corrupted form of snow and/or communication from God.
The Jewish language can be compared to the structure of snow. For Jewish mystics, Hebrew characters hold particular significance. Celan, aware of the mystical heritage of Hasidism, could have possibly linked figurative snow with Hebrew characters. The mystical concept of creation holds that the words themselves possess significance and power, much like Celan's use of snow as a medium for communication with God. According to his book Die Sagen der Juden, Gorion states that God created all through the power of his language. Speech becomes material, much like sounds gain form in snow: "Jüdische Schöpfungslegenden berichten von der Entstehung der Ursubstanzen und der Einzeldinge aus den Lettern einer Urschrift, die der Herr bei der Entstehung der Welt kombinierte." (Gorion 113). The Hebrew characters have, in mystic thought, procreative properties. When linked with snow, they become divine.
Snow is seen in many ways as an incarnation of death. Celan calls ashes "black snow" or "black flakes" (Schwarze Flocken) (GW III, 25), which becomes a recurring metaphor throughout his poetry. These ashes are the physical remains of the Jews cremated in the Nazi ovens. Their ashes floated out from the crematoriums and became Schwarze Flocken. Hermann Burger identifies the colloquialism "black snow" (schwarzer Schnee) meaning "ashes" in the vernacular ("Auf der Suche," Burger 124). In his poem SCHWARZE FLOCKEN (GW III, 25), Celan uses a multitude of snow and ice images to convey this same feeling of death and loss of religion.
SCHWARZE FLOCKENSchnee ist gefallen, lichtlos. Ein Mond
ist es schon oder zwei, daß der Herbst unter mönchischer Kutte
Botschaft brachte auch mir, ein Blatt aus ukrainischen Halden:"Denk, daß es wintert auch hier, zum tausendstenmal nun
im Land, wo der breiteste Strom fließt:
Jakobs himmlisches Blut, beneidet von Äxten . . .
O Eis von unirdischer Röte — es watet ihr Hetman mit allem
Troß in die finsternden Sonnen . . . Kind, ach ein Tuch,
mich zu hüllen darein, wenn es blinket von Helmen,
wenn die Scholle, die rosige, birst, wenn schneeig stäubt das Gebeindeines Vaters, unter den Hufen zerknirscht
das Lied von der Zeder. . .
Ein Tuch, ein Tüchlein nur schmal, daß ich wahre
nun, da zu weinen du lernst, mir zur Seite
die Enge der Welt, die nie grünt, mein Kind, deinem Kinde!"Blutete, Mutter, der Herbst mir hinweg, brannte der Schnee mich:
sucht ich mein Herz, daß es weine, fand ich den Hauch, ach des Sommers,
war er wie du.
Kam mir die Träne. Webt ich das Tüchlein.
The images of red ice and black snow emphasize the feeling of death within this poem. The absence of light in the falling snow indicates the lack of spiritual or religious comfort. The snow burning the child stands as the polar opposite of how one would imagine snow to act. Snow here takes on attributes normally associated with suffering. It becomes synonymous with death and hell. This is an example of the polarity within Celan's writings.
Ash and smoke are reminiscent of Celan's TODESFUGE (GW I, 41). Schwarze Milch or "black milk," stands in opposition to the Gletschermilch. It appears as the perversion of something wholesome. Rather than redeeming the body, the black milk debilitates and makes it unhealthy. What is normally given in the morning becomes a ritual throughout the day. This is the Jewish suffering in the concentration camps. The continued drinking is the biblical analogy to "drink the bitter dregs" or to die. This results in the next verse, "wir schaufeln ein Grab in den Lüften da liegt man nicht eng," which implies the Jews' eventual murder and cremation. This entire imagery becomes a reverse snowfall, both in direction and in color. Where white snow denotes purity and silence, the images here in Todesfuge are those of corruption and terror. Instead of descending snow, one finds ascending ashes. The cumulation of snow into the form of a glacier changes into a dispersal of space in the form of a grave within the air. The sense of absence suggests the emptiness and negative silence of their deaths.
The juxtaposition of summer with snow and black with milk are examples of Celan's tendency to place conflicting ideas against each other. These concepts are later united in the of context of religion. The counter images become the driving force for the creation of a new world (Szondi 85). The images of summer and ice, blackened milk, burning and cold all generate images of a meta-world where undead spirits exist. Only within Celan's poetry can they continue, and particularly only within the glacier, can they experience any form of redemption. Celan creates this world so that their memory may endure while the Jews persist within the images of cold and heat.
Footnotes:
7) See Peter Mayer. Paul Celan als jüdischer Dichter (Diss.
Heidelberg). Landau, 1969.