Rainer Maria Rilke

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

Rainer Maria Rilke Poems

41. For Hans Carossa 1/13/2003
42. From The Tenth Elegy 1/13/2003
43. Girl In Love 1/3/2003
44. Girl's Lament 1/13/2003
45. God Speaks To Each Of Us 4/3/2010
46. Going Blind 1/3/2003
47. Greek Love-Talk 1/3/2003
48. Growing Old 4/3/2010
49. Heartbeat 1/13/2003
50. I Am Much Too Alone In This World, Yet Not Alone 1/20/2003
51. I Am, O Anxious One 1/3/2003
52. Ignorant Before The Heavens Of My Life 1/3/2003
53. In The Beginning 1/13/2003
54. Interior Portrait 1/13/2003
55. Lady At A Mirror 1/13/2003
56. Lady On A Balcony 1/13/2003
57. Lament 1/3/2003
58. Lament (O How All Things Are Far Removed) 1/13/2003
59. Lament (Whom Will You Cry To, Heart?) 1/13/2003
60. Little Tear-Vase 1/13/2003
61. Loneliness 1/3/2003
62. Losing 4/3/2010
63. Love Song 1/3/2003
64. Moving Forward 1/3/2003
65. Music 1/13/2003
66. My Life 4/3/2010
67. Narcissus 1/3/2003
68. Night (O You Whose Countenance) 1/13/2003
69. Night (This Night, Agitated By The Growing Storm) 1/13/2003
70. On Hearing Of A Death 1/13/2003
71. Palm 1/3/2003
72. Parting 1/13/2003
73. Piano Practice 1/13/2003
74. Portrait Of My Father As A Young Man 1/3/2003
75. Put Out My Eyes 1/3/2003
76. Rememberance 1/13/2003
77. Sacrifice 1/13/2003
78. Self-Portrait 1/13/2003
79. Sense Of Something Coming 1/13/2003
80. Slumber Song 1/13/2003
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

Slumber Song

Some day, if I should ever lose you,
will you be able then to go to sleep
without me softly whispering above you
like night air stirring in the linden tree?

Without my waking here and watching
and saying words as tender as eyelids
that come to rest weightlessly upon your breast,
upon your sleeping limbs, upon your lips?

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