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Sunset
Slowly the west reaches for
clothes of new colours
which it passes to a row of ancient trees.
You
look, and soon these two worlds both leave you,
one part climbs toward
heaven, one sinks to earth,
clothes of new colours
which it passes to a row of ancient trees.
You
look, and soon these two worlds both leave you,
one part climbs toward
heaven, one sinks to earth,
leaving you, not really
belonging to either,
not so helplessly dark as that house that is
silent,
not so unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing
that turns
to a star each night and climbs –
belonging to either,
not so helplessly dark as that house that is
silent,
not so unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing
that turns
to a star each night and climbs –
leaving you (it is
impossible to untangle the threads)
your own life, timid and standing high
and growing,
so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one
moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star.
impossible to untangle the threads)
your own life, timid and standing high
and growing,
so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one
moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
~
~
(Trans. by Robert Bly in, The
Soul is Her for Its Own Joy)
Soul is Her for Its Own Joy)
The Sonnets to Orpheus, Part
Two, XII
Two, XII
Want the change. Be
inspired by the flame
where everything shines as it disappears.
The
artist, when sketching, loves nothing so much
as the curve of the body as it
turns away.
inspired by the flame
where everything shines as it disappears.
The
artist, when sketching, loves nothing so much
as the curve of the body as it
turns away.
What locks itself in
sameness has congealed.
Is it safer to be gray and numb?
What turns hard
becomes rigid
and is easily shattered.
sameness has congealed.
Is it safer to be gray and numb?
What turns hard
becomes rigid
and is easily shattered.
Pour yourself out like a
fountain.
Flow into the knowledge that what you are seeking
finishes often
at the start, and, with ending, begins.
fountain.
Flow into the knowledge that what you are seeking
finishes often
at the start, and, with ending, begins.
Every happiness is the child
of a separation
it did not think it could survive. And Daphne, becoming
a laurel,
dares you to become the wind.
of a separation
it did not think it could survive. And Daphne, becoming
a laurel,
dares you to become the wind.
~ Rainer
Maria Rilke ~
Maria Rilke ~
(In Praise of Mortality,
translated and edited by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)
translated and edited by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)