The brook has gentle melodies,
and far is dust and city;
the tree-tops are swaying to and fro
and making me so weary.
The wood is wild, the world is wide,
my heart is clear and big;
pale solitude is holding my head upon her lap.
– Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by M.D. Herter Norton
… Cocteau Twins – Rilkean Heart
She sat much like the others at tea.
At first it was as if she held her cup.
a little differently from the rest.
She gave a smile. It almost hurt.
And when the time came to rise and talk
and slowly, in no special order,
pass through many rooms (talking and laughing),
then I saw her. She came behind the others,
seeming subdued, like someone who soon
will have to sing before many people;
on her pale eyes full of joy,
light fell from outside, as on a pond.
She followed slowly, taking a long time,
at though something hadn’t yet been surmounted;
and yet: as if, as soon as she was past it,
she would no longer walk, but fly.
– Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Galway Kinnell & Hannah Liebmann
sunnybouquet at November 28, 2005 01:07 PM comment
Derek at November 28, 2005 02:28 PM comment