Walking up the side of a mountain in my mind, even though
it's across the street from me, writing of it's effects
upon my soul as I listen to music.
Wandering through this poetical world, freely and simply,
it's bigger than the world I live in, having many other
dimensions and universes opening automatically to intellect.
So pure, nothing to pollute it because no one else can enter
into it's realms, innocence and purity belonging only to me
as long as I live.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This Poetical World - is the imaginative place between the Outer and Inner Worlds They are the real places in which we live out our moral lives, and contribute our efforts to make the world a better place. That much, as Rilke put it, is mission. But This Poetical World you lovingly and vividly evoke is the reward given to the sincere poet for all her creative effort. It's what's left of the Garden at our primeval beginning. The much-anticipated vacation after months of hard work. Days spent in contact with children and their innocence. Nights spent in reading and/or writing luminous poetry.