Rainer Maria Rilke

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

Rainer Maria Rilke Poems

121. Again And Again 1/3/2003
122. Falling Stars 1/13/2003
123. Death 1/3/2003
124. Love Song 1/3/2003
125. You Who Never Arrived 1/3/2003
126. A Walk 1/13/2003
127. The Panther 1/3/2003

Comments about Rainer Maria Rilke

  • 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.'

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  • Jay Warier (7/19/2009 11:20:00 AM)

    'Again and Again' I reread after 25 years today. Kept me entranced again. Time has not taken any of Rilke's charm away.

  • Sinnaminsun Sinnaminsun (7/15/2005 8:55:00 PM)

    Rainer Maria Rilke is my favorite poet. Upon hearing his poem, 'The Panther' I became breathless, emotional and was totally captivated by it. Every time I hear or reread that poem I am totally mesmerized by his skill.

  • Justaname Parer (5/14/2005 5:34:00 AM)

    'Autumn' is such a beautiful poem in German. Its worth reading out loud even if you don't understand all the words. All you need to remember is to pronounce the German W as an English V, the German V as an English F, and the German letter ä sounds like 'eh' or 'air' (with no R sound at the end) .

Best Poem of Rainer Maria Rilke

The Panther

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

Read the full of The Panther

Abishag

I
She lay, and serving-men her lithe arms took,
And bound them round the withering old man,
And on him through the long sweet hours she lay,
And little fearful of his many years.

And many times she turned amidst his beard
Her face, as often as the night-owl screeched,
And all that was the night around them reached

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