Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe, em Poetry as Experience*, reflecte sobre a questão da poesia. Celan está no centro - e na origem, com frequência - das suas reflexões. Na contracapa do livro lê-se que “Lacoue-Labarthe’s Poetry as Experience addresses the question of a lyric language that would not be the expression of subjectivity.” E na mesma contracapa lê-se a seguir: “In his analysis of the historical position of Paul Celan’s poetry, Lacoue-Labarthe defines the subject as the principle that founds, organizes, and secures both cognition and action – a principle that turned, most violently during the twentieth century, into a figure not only of domination but of extermination of everything other than itself. This thoroughly universal, abstract, and finally suicidal subject eradicates all experience, save the singularities of this experience of voiding. But what is left, as Paul Celan’s insisted, is a remainder accessible to the lyric voice alone: Singbarer Rest.”
Fui para dentro do livro e continuei a ler, parando para reflectir em algumas frases que já tinha sublinhado em leituras anteriores:
For poetry, representation is organized starting with what one might call ontic comparison (the comparison of the already-present with the already-present), from which arise figures or images, "metaphors and other tropes," all the turns of phrase that allow a certain use of language to be defined as "poetic." Measured against the requirements of questioning toward Being or presence, the ontic comparison, and therefore the "poetic," have to do with what Heidegger denounced as "idols" (Gotzen) and problematized as "thinking in models" (Denken in Modellen). There is nothing to which one can compare Being: Being is, purely and simply, the unrepresentable.
Poetry as Celan understands it is thus in this sense the interruption of the "poetic." At least, it is defined as a battle against idolatry. All "real" poems, all that are effectively poems, seem to aim at nothing other than being the place where the "poetic" collapses and becomes abysmal. The task of poetry seems to be tirelessly undoing the "poetic"; not by "putting an end" to figures and tropes, but by pushing them ad absurdum, as Lucile's "Long live the King!" in the sharp light of death suddenly makes absurd the theatricality and grandiloquence of "historic" discourses. In the highly rigorous sense the term has in Heidegger, poetry would thus be the "deconstruction" of the poetic, that is to say, both of what is recognized as such (here there is a closely fought confrontation with the poetic tradition) and of the spontaneous "poeticity" of language (which supposes the strictest possible language work).
Such a task, which amounts to extenuating the "poetic," is perhaps impossible - Celan is the first to say so. Nevertheless, it is what his poetry strives to do. It strives as "poetry of poetry." But it also strives inasmuch as it seeks to reduce the image to pure perception, that is, seeks to empty or hollow out the image. To the question "And what, then, would the images be?" once the poem condenses in "exorbitant" questioning, the response is: "That which is perceived and to be perceived one time, one time over and over again, and only now and only here". Poetry would thus measure itself against the impossibility of a language without images or the impossibiliry of what Benjamin calls "pure language," that is, the language of names.
In its impossible, exhausting combat with art (the motif of panting, babbling, or stammering), what poetry wants to rid itself of is the beautiful. The poem's threat is the beautiful, and all poems are always too beautiful, even Celan's.The beautiful is obviously closely linked to mimesis. This is particularly visible in Benjamin, who defines the beautiful "as the object of experience in the state of resemblance." He quotes Valery on this: "Beauty may require the servile imitation of what is indefinable in objects." If one went so far as to say "the servile imitation of that which is inimitable in things," one would reach what makes poetry's essence for Celan, that is, what does not destine it for the beautiful - or for mimesis. But at the same time this pure oxymoron, the imitation of the inimitable, marks the impossibility of poetry. This is where Celan locates the tragic.
* Translated by Andrea Tarnowski, Stanford University Press, 1999