In "Snow Part," Celan confronts profound themes of silence and language, marking his final literary venture. Despite the challenging nature of some poems, they offer deep insights into his reflections on the Holocaust and its philosophical implications. While shadowed by the events surrounding Celan's life, these poems also hint at the possibility of hope.

Celan's Final Thoughts and Struggles

The poems in "Snow Part" are Celan's last attempt to grapple with language and the void it sometimes fails to fill. This posthumous collection was published with permission from Celan's son, as some poems had not been intended for publication. The work resonates with those who explore the profound psychological and philosophical questions linked to the Holocaust. The syntax is intricate, the narrators are obscured, and the meanings are layered, making the collection tough to decipher yet rewarding for those willing to delve deeply. Although marked by the poet's suicide shortly after the final poems were written, these works should not be viewed solely through the lens of his death, as they reveal glimpses of hope amidst despair.

Translation and Context

Ian Fairley’s English translation largely captures the contents of Celan’s original "Schneepart," composed around the period of Celan's mental breakdown in 1967. The poems reflect a dissolution of any semblance of order the poet could once impose on his fragmented reality. Characterized by brevity and density, these pieces embody Celan’s struggle with chaos. Despite the prevailing darkness, a few poems extend an uncertain optimism—a fragile belief in eventual peace. Fairley's translation expands the collection by incorporating some previously unpublished or uncollected works, adding further depth to Celan's closing reflections.

"Was Naht" – A Glimmer of Optimism

Among the most significant and perhaps the most hopeful of these works is the poem "Was Naht" ("What Knits"). It seeks to understand what "this voice" is weaving, potentially bridging the divide between life and the abyss of the Holocaust. The imagery of a "snow needle" emerging from chasms evokes a call towards resurrection and transformation. The poem encourages the "you" it addresses to rise, to "hill out of there, alive," and embrace new life:

tumuli,
tumuli,
you
hill out of there, alive,
come
into the kiss.

Celan creatively uses "hill" as a verb, crafting the neologism "hugelst," from a non-existent verb "to hill." This linguistic innovation underscores the poet's desire for renewal and metamorphosis, suggesting that despite being ensnared by "worms," there is a "safe passage" to follow a "word, with all its green." The imagery conjures a sense of eerie rebirth, where the dead may rise to embrace the unimaginable, yet it signifies rebirth nonetheless. The juxtaposition of decay with "green" hints at regeneration and hope.

Challenges in Translation

Other poems within the collection are less penetrable, and Fairley’s translations do not always bridge the gap for readers unfamiliar with Celan’s unique linguistic landscape. His use of certain words, such as "grimpen" for "marshy," or "thole" for "endurance," may alienate some readers. Nevertheless, Fairley’s commitment to explaining the poems' historical contexts makes them more accessible to those with limited knowledge of German history and Celan’s work.

Legacy of "Snow Part"

Despite its complexity, "Snow Part" stands as a crucial component of Celan’s oeuvre. Fairley's translation not only preserves the essence of Celan's original voice but also broadens the poet's reach to an English-speaking audience. These poems, embedded with historical and emotional weight, continue to challenge and inspire, inviting readers into Celan's intricate world of language and silence. As scholars and enthusiasts navigate the shadowed yet hopeful landscape of Celan's thoughts, "Snow Part" remains an essential touchstone for exploring the tension between despair and the tentative promise of renewal.