Paul Celan's "Todtnauberg"

I've already mentioned the meeting between Celan and Heidegger in relation to Grass's My Century (maybe I'll turn to that next or soon), but I thought it worthwhile to post Celan's own cryptic account: "Todtnauberg" (see below).

I'll also throw in an interesting exegesis of the poem (one of many, I'm sure) I unearthed on Google this morning. Though I've personally only skimmed it today (I spent a few hours with this essay, or a similar one, a couple years ago), I particularly liked the admission at the end: "A translation of a poem has to be a poem."

 http://epc.buffalo.edu/authors/joris/todtnauberg.html

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TODTNAUBERG

Arnica, Eyebright, the
drink from the well with the
star-die on top,

in the
hut,

into the book
-- whose name did it take in
before mine? --
the line written into
this book about
a hope, today,
for a thinker's
(un-
delayed coming)
word
in the heart,

woodland turf, unleveled,
Orchis and Orchis, singly,

crudeness, later, while driving,
clearly,

the one driving us, the man
who hears it too,

the half-
trodden log-
paths on high moorland,

dampness,
much.

Knock the
light-wedges away:

the floating word
is dusk's.

(translated by John Felstiner)