I've been reading the tributes to the lyric poet Hilde Domin, who died yesterday at the age of 96 in Heidelberg. Her poems have a deceptive simplicity - nearly impossible to translate into English - which is why she is virtually unknown in the United States. In any case, she never achieved the fame of her good friend Nelly Sachs.
Her great themes are exile and loss, but her poetry is an affirmation of life. She and her husband saw the writing on the wall and left Germany already in 1932. Of her prescience she wrote:
Domin: Man nannte mich damals Kassandra. Aber wir haben wirklich geahnt und befürchtet, wohin die Entwicklung in Deutschland ging. Das Exil dann haben wir trotzdem auch als eine emanzipatorische Angelegenheit empfunden. Herausgerissen aus dem eigenen Milieu, weg von den Freunden, haben wir doch auch in furchtbaren Situationen immer wieder helfende Menschen getroffen. Das Vertrauen wurde nicht geschädigt und ich sehe keine Verbitterung in mir. Und als wir zurückkamen, das war aufregend. Aber heute finde ich, wenn ich das sagen darf, daß die Menschen in Deutschland nicht mehr bescheiden genug sind.
Her exile from Germany lasted 22 years, most of it spent in Santo Domingo, from which she took her name - Domin - out of gratitude. Her husband translated the poems of Garcia Lorca, and there is an echo of Lorca in Domin's poetry. She felt compelled to return to Germany after the war above all since she needed to end her exile from the German language ("ich ging heim in das Wort"). Her friend, the philospher Hans Georg Gadamer called Domin "die Dichterin der Rückkehr" - the poet of the return, and her presence and poetry contributed to the "return" and restoration of the German language in the postwar era.
I first encountered her as a student when I read Doppelinterpretationen. Her introductory essay - Über das Interpretieren von Gedichten - has become a classic in modern poetics, along with her long essay Wozu Lyrik Heute? Although she didn't begin writing until mid-life, Hilde Domin was amazingly productive, and her creative powers never diminished: at the age of 90 she produced a volume of poetry, Der Baum blüht trotzdem (Even so the Tree Blossoms). Her life and her words are an inspiration for all of us.
Nicht müde werden
sondern dem Wunder
leise
wie einem Vogel
die Hand hinhalten.
(Do not grow weary
but gently
to the wonder
as if a bird should light
hold out your hand.}
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