A Sybil Poem by Rainer Maria Rilke

A Sybil

Rating: 1.8


Long before our time they called her old,
But she'd walk down the same road every day.
Her age became too much to say
In years — and, like a forest's, would be told

In centuries. She comes to stand at dusk —
Her spot each time the same — and to foretell.
She is a hollow, wrinkled husk,
Dark as a fire-gutted citadel.

She has to turn her flock of talking loose
Or it will grow too crowded to relieve.
Flapping and screaming, words are flying all

Around her. Then, returning home to roost,
They find a perch beneath her eyebrows' eaves,
And in that shadow wait for night to fall.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Robin 11 January 2018

I think it's about the sun, literally, and about the perceived futility of how we spend our time or the days.

1 0 Reply
Feline Occupy 18 July 2012

I would love to hear some peoples' interpretation of this poem!

7 2 Reply
Robin 11 January 2018

I think it's about the sun, literally, and about the perceived futility of how we spend our days.

0 0 Reply
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Rainer Maria Rilke

Rainer Maria Rilke

Prague / Czech Republic
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