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|
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
At The Brink Of Night
My room and this distance,
awake upon the darkening land,
are one. I am a string
stretched across deep
Things are violin bodies
full of murmuring darkness,
where women's weeping dreams,