Rainer Maria Rilke
Rainer Maria Rilke Poems
|121.||What Fields Are As Fragrant As Your Hands?||1/13/2003|
|123.||Woman In Love||1/3/2003|
|124.||World Was In The Face Of The Beloved||1/13/2003|
|125.||You Who Never Arrived||1/3/2003|
|127.||You, You Only, Exist||1/3/2003|
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.
Encircled by her arms as by a shell,
she hears her being murmur,
while forever he endures
the outrage of his too pure image...
Wistfully following their example,
nature re-enters herself;
contemplating its own sap, the flower
becomes too soft, and the boulder hardens...