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December 15, 2003
To Music
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Music: breathing of statues. Perhaps:
silence of paintings. You language where all language
ends. You time
standing vertically on the motion of mortal hearts.
Feelings for whom? O you the transformation
of feelings into what?-: into audible landscape.
You stranger: music. You heart-space
grown out of us. The deepest space in us,
which, rising above us, forces its way out,-
holy departure:
when the innermost point in us stands
outside, as the most practiced distance, as the other
side of the air:
pure,
boundless,
no longer habitable.
Translated by Stephen Mitchell
Posted by pogo at December 15, 2003 8:04 PM
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Comments
Once, a long, long time ago, I read a poem of Rilke’s that begins
I am so afraid of man’s words.
People say them so clearly.
This is called “cat” and that is “dog.”
(or something similar)
I can’t find an English translation of it anywhere. Does anyone know it? And if so, would you please, please send it to me? It would be the best Christmas present, and make me very happy indeed.
Posted by: tam on December 15, 2003 8:07 PM