Paul Celan is one of my favorite poets. In a very different and inventive language, his poems tell about the brutality during Holocaust, without mentioning by name the source of the devastation. He masterfully confronts the reader of a his terrible anguish, pain and sorrow and that of so many other damaged souls and lives.

“there are
still songs to be sung
on the other side
of mankind.”

Many have struggled to translate Celan...It must be enormously difficult to find Celan's voice in another language. This is a tranlation by Michael Hamburger..

DEATH FUGUE
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown
we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night
we drink it and drink it
we dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined
A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents he writes
he writes when dusk falls to Germany your golden hair Margarete
he writes it ans steps out of doors and the stars are flashing he whistles his pack out
he whistles his Jews out in earth has them dig for a grave
he commands us strike up for the dance
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you in the morning at noon we drink you at sundown
we drink and we drink you
A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents he writes
he writes when dusk falls to Germany your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Sulamith we dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined
He calls out jab deeper into the earth you lot you others sing now and play
he grabs at teh iron in his belt he waves it his eyes are blue
jab deper you lot with your spades you others play on for the dance
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at at noon in the morning we drink you at sundown
we drink and we drink you
a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Sulamith he plays with the serpents
He calls out more sweetly play death death is a master from Germany
he calls out more darkly now stroke your strings then as smoke you will rise into air
then a grave you will have in the clouds there one lies unconfined
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at noon death is a master from Germany
we drink you at sundown and in the morning we drink and we drink you
death is a master from Germany his eyes are blue
he strikes you with leaden bullets his aim is true
a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete
he sets his pack on to us he grants us a grave in the air
He plays with the serpents and daydreams death is a master from Germany
your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Shulamith
________________________________________

A bit late joining this discussion, but here is a webiste that you might be interest in:
http://www.celan-projekt.de/
The poem is translated well concerning content but lacks the alliteration and singsong urgency and acceleration that helps give it its title, in German.

I have never heard of Paul Celan before. He does a beautiful job of portraying the pain and agony he endured.