Rainer Maria Rilke

(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926 / Prague / Czech Republic)

Rainer Maria Rilke Poems

1. At The Brink Of Night 4/8/2015
2. Behind The Blameless Trees 3/2/2015
3. Falconry 4/3/2010
4. Growing Old 4/3/2010
5. The Song Of The Blindman 1/13/2003
6. The Song Of The Widow 1/13/2003
7. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Iv 1/13/2003
8. The Last Evening 1/13/2003
9. The Song Of The Beggar 1/13/2003
10. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Book 2: Vi 1/13/2003
11. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Xxv 1/13/2003
12. The Blindman's Song 1/3/2003
13. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Book 2: Xxiii 1/13/2003
14. The Last Supper 1/13/2003
15. Palm 1/3/2003
16. My Life 4/3/2010
17. The Neighbor 1/13/2003
18. Song Of The Orphan 1/13/2003
19. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Xix 1/13/2003
20. Losing 4/3/2010
21. Solemn Hour 1/3/2003
22. Venetian Morning 1/13/2003
23. What Birds Plunge Through Is Not The Intimate Space 1/13/2003
24. Elegy Iv 1/3/2003
25. Little Tear-Vase 1/13/2003
26. From The Tenth Elegy 1/13/2003
27. Spanish Dancer 1/13/2003
28. Lady On A Balcony 1/13/2003
29. For Hans Carossa 1/13/2003
30. The Wait 1/13/2003
31. Encounter In The Chestnut Avenue 1/13/2003
32. Lady At A Mirror 1/13/2003
33. God Speaks To Each Of Us 4/3/2010
34. The Apple Orchard 1/3/2003
35. Parting 1/13/2003
36. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Book 2: I 1/13/2003
37. Sacrifice 1/13/2003
38. Eve 1/3/2003
39. What Fields Are As Fragrant As Your Hands? 1/13/2003
40. Greek Love-Talk 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Rainer Maria Rilke

A Walk

My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave...
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.


Translated by Robert Bly

Read the full of A Walk

Abishag

I
She lay, and serving-men her lithe arms took,
And bound them round the withering old man,
And on him through the long sweet hours she lay,
And little fearful of his many years.

And many times she turned amidst his beard
Her face, as often as the night-owl screeched,
And all that was the night around them reached

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