Poems by Rainer Maria Rilke

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Childhood

It would be good to give much thought, before

you try to find words for something so lost,

for those long childhood afternoons you knew

that vanished so completely —and why?

We're still reminded—: sometimes by a rain,

but we can no longer say what it means;

life was never again so filled with meeting,

with reunion and with passing on

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Before Summer Rain

Suddenly, from all the green around you,

something-you don't know what-has disappeared;

you feel it creeping closer to the window,

in total silence. From the nearby wood

you hear the urgent whistling of a plover,

reminding you of someone's Saint Jerome:

so much solitude and passion come

from that one voice, whose fierce request the downpour

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Blank Joy

She who did not come, wasn't she determined

nonetheless to organize and decorate my heart?

If we had to exist to become the one we love,

what would the heart have to create?

Lovely joy left blank, perhaps you are

the center of all my labors and my loves.

If I've wept for you so much, it's because

I preferred you among so many outlined joys.

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Evening Love Song

Ornamental clouds

compose an evening love song;

a road leaves evasively.

The new moon begins

a new chapter of our nights,

of those frail nights

we stretch out and which mingle

with these black horizontals.

by 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.

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Elegy IV

O trees of life, oh, what when winter comes?

We are not of one mind. Are not like birds

in unison migrating. And overtaken,

overdue, we thrust ourselves into the wind

and fall to earth into indifferent ponds.

Blossoming and withering we comprehend as one.

And somewhere lions roam, quite unaware,

in their magnificence, of any weakness.

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Evening

The sky puts on the darkening blue coat

held for it by a row of ancient trees;

you watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight,

one journeying to heaven, one that falls;

and leave you, not at home in either one,

not quite so still and dark as the darkened houses,

not calling to eternity with the passion of what becomes

a star each night, and rises;

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Buddha in Glory

Center of all centers, core of cores,

almond self-enclosed, and growing sweet—

all this universe, to the furthest stars

all beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit.

Now you feel how nothing clings to you;

your vast shell reaches into endless space,

and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow.

Illuminated in your infinite peace,

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Autumn Day

Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.

Lay your shadow on the sundials

and let loose the wind in the fields.

Bid the last fruits to be full;

give them another two more southerly days,

press them to ripeness, and chase

the last sweetness into the heavy wine.

Whoever has no house now will not build one

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Again and Again

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love

and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,

and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others

fall: again and again the two of us walk out together

under the ancient trees, lie down again and again

among the flowers, face to face with the sky.

by Rainer Maria Rilke

To Say Before Going to Sleep

I would like to sing someone to sleep,

have someone to sit by and be with.

I would like to cradle you and softly sing,

be your companion while you sleep or wake.

I would like to be the only person

in the house who knew: the night outside was cold.

And would like to listen to you

and outside to the world and to the woods.

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Early Spring

Harshness vanished. A sudden softness

has replaced the meadows' wintry grey.

Little rivulets of water changed

their singing accents. Tendernesses,

hesitantly, reach toward the earth

from space, and country lanes are showing

these unexpected subtle risings

that find expression in the empty trees.

by Rainer Maria Rilke