You are the future,the red sky before sunrise
over the fields of time.
You are the cock's crow when night is done,
you are the dew and the bells of matins,
maiden, stranger, mother, death.
You create yourself in ever-changing shapes
that rise from the stuff of our days---
unsung, unmourned, undescribed,
like a forest we never knew.
You are the deep innerness of all things,
the last word that can never be spoken.
To each of us you reveal yourself differently:
to the ship as coastline, to the shore as a ship.
Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours, II, 22
(translation by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)
over the fields of time.
You are the cock's crow when night is done,
you are the dew and the bells of matins,
maiden, stranger, mother, death.
You create yourself in ever-changing shapes
that rise from the stuff of our days---
unsung, unmourned, undescribed,
like a forest we never knew.
You are the deep innerness of all things,
the last word that can never be spoken.
To each of us you reveal yourself differently:
to the ship as coastline, to the shore as a ship.
Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours, II, 22
(translation by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)
2 comments:
rilke's poetry - beautiful words which create stunning masterpieces of sound and vision.
Rilke ... the first poet whose work I fell into and in love with ... These translations by Barrows & Macy are some of my favourites ... All my books of Rilke are falling apart with all the love I've given them ... :-)
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