Rainer Maria Rilke

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

Rainer Maria Rilke Poems

41. Lament (O How All Things Are Far Removed) 1/13/2003
42. Narcissus 1/3/2003
43. Night (This Night, Agitated By The Growing Storm) 1/13/2003
44. Parting 1/13/2003
45. Solemn Hour 1/3/2003
46. Rememberance 1/13/2003
47. Self-Portrait 1/13/2003
48. Girl's Lament 1/13/2003
49. Elegy X 1/3/2003
50. The Grown-Up 1/13/2003
51. Interior Portrait 1/13/2003
52. Lament 1/3/2003
53. The Unicorn 1/3/2003
54. The Sonnets To Orpheus: I 1/13/2003
55. Lament (Whom Will You Cry To, Heart?) 1/13/2003
56. The Future 1/13/2003
57. The Sonnets To Orpheus: Book 2: Xiii 1/13/2003
58. The Lovers 1/3/2003
59. God Speaks To Each Of Us 4/3/2010
60. To Music 1/13/2003
61. A Sybil 4/3/2010
62. Fire's Reflection 1/13/2003
63. The Wait 1/13/2003
64. In The Beginning 1/13/2003
65. Eve 1/3/2003
66. World Was In The Face Of The Beloved 1/13/2003
67. Evening 1/13/2003
68. The Poet 1/3/2003
69. The Spanish Dancer 1/3/2003
70. Song Of The Sea 1/13/2003
71. Lady At A Mirror 1/13/2003
72. The Voices 1/13/2003
73. Song 1/13/2003
74. Portrait Of My Father As A Young Man 1/3/2003
75. Slumber Song 1/13/2003
76. I Am, O Anxious One 1/3/2003
77. Fall Day 1/3/2003
78. Exposed On The Cliffs Of The Heart 1/3/2003
79. What Survives 1/13/2003
80. Elegy I 1/3/2003
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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