Rainer Maria Rilke

(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926 / Prague / Czech Republic)

Rainer Maria Rilke Poems

1. At The Brink Of Night 4/8/2015
2. Behind The Blameless Trees 3/2/2015
3. Falconry 4/3/2010
4. The Song Of The Widow 1/13/2003
5. The Song Of The Blindman 1/13/2003
6. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Book 2: Vi 1/13/2003
7. The Song Of The Beggar 1/13/2003
8. Growing Old 4/3/2010
9. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Book 2: Xxiii 1/13/2003
10. The Neighbor 1/13/2003
11. Little Tear-Vase 1/13/2003
12. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Iv 1/13/2003
13. The Blindman's Song 1/3/2003
14. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Xxv 1/13/2003
15. My Life 4/3/2010
16. The Last Evening 1/13/2003
17. Song Of The Orphan 1/13/2003
18. Lady On A Balcony 1/13/2003
19. Spanish Dancer 1/13/2003
20. What Fields Are As Fragrant As Your Hands? 1/13/2003
21. Venetian Morning 1/13/2003
22. Encounter In The Chestnut Avenue 1/13/2003
23. Elegy Iv 1/3/2003
24. The Last Supper 1/13/2003
25. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Xix 1/13/2003
26. Solemn Hour 1/3/2003
27. Losing 4/3/2010
28. Palm 1/3/2003
29. The Apple Orchard 1/3/2003
30. The Unicorn 1/3/2003
31. The Wait 1/13/2003
32. Eve 1/3/2003
33. To Lou Andreas-Salome 1/13/2003
34. For Hans Carossa 1/13/2003
35. Lament (Whom Will You Cry To, Heart?) 1/13/2003
36. Parting 1/13/2003
37. The Spanish Dancer 1/3/2003
38. Portrait Of My Father As A Young Man 1/3/2003
39. From The Tenth Elegy 1/13/2003
40. God Speaks To Each Of Us 4/3/2010

Comments about Rainer Maria Rilke

  • Liselotte (7/9/2018 12:50:00 PM)

    I am searching a poem of Rilke, wehre God spoke to the the soul, befor beeinflusst born

    1 person liked.
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  • Ray A Burleigh (6/20/2018 3:05:00 PM)

    Thank you for having these gorgeous, sometimes indescribable poems here for us. He is trying for things just beyond our reach. What a magnificent heart! ! ! !

  • SOBHA (4/23/2018 1:17:00 AM)


  • Catherine Clark (1/30/2018 3:40:00 PM)

    I am searching for Rainer Maria Rolke's beautiful poem written about the liquid-filled eyes of the dumb animals at the manger adoring the Christ child.

  • Greg Bell Greg Bell (4/16/2017 4:35:00 PM)

    An underappreciated artist of consummate skill. His Sonnets to Orpheus are sublime.

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (12/4/2015 11:14:00 AM)

    The Song of the Dwarf

    Maybe my soul is straight and good,
    but she's got to lug my heart, my blood,
    which all hurts because it's crooked;
    its weight sends her staggering.
    She has no bed, she has no home,
    she merely hangs on my sharp bones,
    flapping her terrible wings.

    And my hands are completely shot,
    shriveled, worn: here, take a look
    at how they clammily, clumsily hop
    like rain-crazed toads.
    As for all the other stuff,
    it's all used up and sad and old—
    why doesn't God haul me out to the muck
    and let me drop.

    Is it because of my mug
    with its frowning mouth?
    So often I would itch
    to be luminous and free of fog
    but nothing would approach
    except big dogs.
    And the dogs got zilch.

    (Rainer Maria Rilke)

  • Elise Stettner (7/12/2014 8:16:00 AM)

    I am searching for the poem by M. R. Rilke in which he speaks about pushing thru solid rock.

  • David Creasor (8/22/2013 3:10:00 PM)

    Hi guys, I am reading a Portuguese translation from a poem that I know was written by Rainer Maria Rilke, unfortunately the title is missing. Do any of you know which poem starts something like Nothing is comparable. maybe there is something

    Thanks in advance for any help

  • Valerie Harms (4/14/2012 11:43:00 AM)

    does anyone have those lines by Rilke where he is sitting in the rich darkness expectant about the light coming?

  • Mardia Parker (3/3/2010 6:30:00 AM)

    Trying to confirm a poem or quote that is attributed to Rilke: 'In love, practice only this: letting each other go. Holding on comes easily, we don't need to learn it. Practice letting go.'

Best Poem of Rainer Maria Rilke

A Walk

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

Read the full of A Walk

From The Tenth Elegy

Ah, but the City of Pain: how strange its streets are:
the false silence of sound drowning sound,
and there--proud, brazen, effluence from the mold of emptiness--
the gilded hubbub, the bursting monument.
How an Angel would stamp out their market of solaces,
set up alongside their church bought to order:
clean and closed and woeful as a post office on Sunday.
Outside, though, there's always the billowing edge of the fair.
Swings of Freedom! High-divers and Jugglers of Zeal!

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