Second Elegy, from Duino Elegies
Every angel is terrible
And still, alas
knowing all that
I serenade you
you almost deadly
birds of the soul.
Where are the days of Tobias
when one of these
brightest of creatures
stood
at the simple front door
disguised a little
for the trip
and not so frightening
(a young man
like the one
who looked curiously
out at him).
If the dangerous archangel
took one step now
down toward us
from behind the stars
our heartbeats
rising like thunder
would kill us.
Who are you?
Creation's spoiled darlings
among the first to be perfect
a chain of mountains
peaks and ridges
red in the morning light
of all creation
the blossoming godhead's pollen
joints of pure light
corridors
staircases
thrones
pockets of essence
ecstasy shields
tumultuous storms
of delightful feelings
then suddenly
separate
mirrors
gathering the beauty
that streamed away from them
back to their own faces again.
For as we feel
we evaporate
oh we
breathe ourselves out
and away
ember glow to ember glow
we give off a fainter smell.
It's trust that someone
may say to us
"You're in my blood
this room
the spring
is filling with you'...
What good is that?
he can't keep us
we vanish inside him
around him.
And the beautiful
oh who can hold them back?
It's endless:
appearance shines
from their faces
disappearing - like dew
rising from morning grass
we breathe away
what is ours
like steam from a hot dish.
Oh smile where are you going?
Oh lifted glance
new, warm
receding wave of the heart
woe is me?
it's all of us.
Does the outer space
into which we dissolve
taste of us at all?
Do the angels absorb
only what's theirs
what streamed away from them
or do they sometimes get
as if by mistake
a little of our being too?
Are we mixed into
their features
as slightly
as that vague look
in the faces
of pregnant women?
In their swirling
return to themselves
they don't notice it.
(How could they notice it?)
Lovers, if they knew how
might say strange things
in the night air.
For it seems
that all things try
to conceal us.
See, the trees are
and the houses we live in
still hold their own,
It's just we
who pass everything by
like air being traded
for air.
And all things agree
to keep quiet about us
maybe half to shame us
and half from a hope
they can't express.
Lovers, you who are
each other's satisfaction
I ask you about us.
You hold each other.
Does that settle it?
You see
it sometimes happens
that my hands
grow conscious
of each other
or that my used face
shelters itself
within them.
That gives me
a slight sensation.
But who'd claim from that
to exist?
You though
who grow
by each other's ecstasy
until drowning
you beg "no more!"
you who under
each other's hands
become more abundant
like the grapes
of great vintages
fading at times
but only because
the other completely
takes over-
I ask you about us.
I know
that touch
is a blessing for you
because the caress lasts
because what you cover
so tenderly
does not disappear
because you can sense
underneath the touch
some kind of pure
duration.
Somehow eternity
almost seems possible
as you embrace.
And yet
when you've got past
the fear in that first
exchange of glances
Further reading:
Ahead of All Parting : The Selected Poetry and Prose of Rainer Maria Rilke
Rilke's Book of Hours : Love Poems to God by Anita Barrows(Translator)
The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke
The Book of Images by Rainer Maria Rilke
Duino Elegies : Bilingual by Rainer Maria Rilke