Rainer Maria Rilke
Rainer Maria Rilke Poems
|121.||Again And Again||1/3/2003|
|125.||You Who Never Arrived||1/3/2003|
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.
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