Translation, Rilke Die Erblindende (Losing Her Sight) Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

She sat there, like the others, having tea,
it seemed she held her cup a different way,
not like the others, it was clear to see.
She smiled, it almost hurt, but once that day.

When they arose and started talking
meandering through rooms, as if by chance,
I looked at her, they laughed as she was walking,
she followed them, too slowly, as in trance.

But hesitating now as if somehow expected
to sing before a crowd, with much at stake,
her smiling eyes alight as they reflected
an inner brightness, coming from a lake.

She followed, hesitating, as it took awhile,
as if some hurdles, to be conquered soon,
and that, advancing still in single file
she surely would be flying and not walking, soon.