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. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Iv 1/13/2003
3. For Hans Carossa 1/13/2003
4. The Song Of The Blindman 1/13/2003
5. Lady On A Balcony 1/13/2003
6. Encounter In The Chestnut Avenue 1/13/2003
7. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Book 2: Xxiii 1/13/2003
8. Palm 1/3/2003
9. Elegy Iv 1/3/2003
10. The Song Of The Beggar 1/13/2003
11. Venetian Morning 1/13/2003
12. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Book 2: Vi 1/13/2003
13. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Xix 1/13/2003
14. From The Tenth Elegy 1/13/2003
15. Little Tear-Vase 1/13/2003
16. Fall Day 1/3/2003
17. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Xxv 1/13/2003
18. Lament (O How All Things Are Far Removed) 1/13/2003
19. Piano Practice 1/13/2003
20. Song Of The Orphan 1/13/2003
21. Night (O You Whose Countenance) 1/13/2003
22. Parting 1/13/2003
23. Lady At A Mirror 1/13/2003
24. What Birds Plunge Through Is Not The Intimate Space 1/13/2003
25. Rememberance 1/13/2003
26. The Neighbor 1/13/2003
27. The Sonnets To Orpheus: I 1/13/2003
28. The Song Of The Widow 1/13/2003
29. Spanish Dancer 1/13/2003
30. Falconry 4/3/2010
31. What Fields Are As Fragrant As Your Hands? 1/13/2003
32. Night (This Night, Agitated By The Growing Storm) 1/13/2003
33. Eve 1/3/2003
34. Girl's Lament 1/13/2003
35. Adam 1/3/2003
36. Sacrifice 1/13/2003
37. The Poet 1/3/2003
38. The Last Evening 1/13/2003
39. In The Beginning 1/13/2003
40. Greek Love-Talk 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Rainer Maria Rilke

The Panther

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

Read the full of The Panther

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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