I did not know that Arendt writed poems all along his life. These of this book are from 1921 to 1961, some of them never edited. It was her "violon d'Ingres". A passion for amateur. The irony comes from the title in french "Happy who have no homeland". But Arendt always wrote them in German, her mother tongue. As if these poems was the only thing which connected her with Germany.
Quality? It is not genius, but it is good. The book is in german with the french translation. It is easy to find an eventual mistake. But here no problem.We see the influence of the German romanticism, Holderlin but also Rilke. But these poems give us an other image of Arendt, in her intimacy. There is love, exile, anger, nature. We meet Heidegger, Benjamin, Broch,...
It is a mouving book