Rainer Maria Rilke
Dedication to M.
Swing of the heart. O firmly hung, fastened on what
invisible branch. Who, who gave you the push,
that you swung with me into the leaves?
How near I was to the exquisite fruits. But not-staying
is the essence of this motion. Only the nearness, only
toward the forever-too-high, all at once the possible
nearness. Vicinities, then
from an irresistibly swung-up-to place
-already, once again, lost-the new sight, the outlook.
And now: the commanded return
back and across and into equilbrium's arms.
Below, in between, hesitation, the pull of earth, the passage
through the turning-point of the heavy-, past it: and the
weighted with the heart's curiosity,
to the other side, opposite, upward.
Again how different, how new! How they envy each other
at the ends of the rope, these opposite halves of pleasure.
Or, shall I dare it: these quarters?-And include, since it
that other half-circle, the one whose impetus pushes the
I'm not just imagining it, as the mirror of my here-and-now
arc. Guess nothing. It will be
newer someday. But from endpoint to endpoint
of the arc that I have most dared, I already fully possess it:
overflowings from me plunge over to it and fill it,
stretch it apart, almost. And my own parting,
when the force that pushes me someday
stops, makes it all the more near.
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Comments about this poem (Dedication to M. by Rainer Maria Rilke )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
(8 February 1911 – 6 October 1979)
Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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- The Saddest Poem, Pablo Neruda
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- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- XVII (I do not love you...), Pablo Neruda
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