Poems by Rainer Maria Rilke

Sorted by title, showing title and first line

My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
High above he stands, beside the many
Again and again, however we know the landscape of love
Along the sun-drenched roadside, from the great
We cannot know his legendary head
As once the winged energy of delight
Four Translations
Suddenly, from all the green around you,
A ghost, though invisible, still is like a place
She who did not come, wasn't she determined
Sometimes she walks through the village in her
It would be good to give much thought, before
Come thou, thou last one, whom I recognize,
I have great faith in all things not yet spoken.
Swing of the heart. O firmly hung, fastened on what
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
O trees of life, oh, what when winter comes?
That some day, emerging at last from the terrifying vision
Harshness vanished. A sudden softness
He felt the entrance's green darkness
Look how she stands, high on the steep facade
The sky puts on the darkening blue coat
Ornamental clouds
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Look, how tiny down
Extinguish Thou my eyes:I still can see Thee,
Do you remember still the falling stars
Perhaps it's no more than the fire's reflection
Losing too is still ours; and even forgetting
Ah, but the City of Pain: how strange its streets are:
In the years when we were
She sat just like the others at the table.
What I have already learned as a lover,
In some summers there is so much fruit,
Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart
Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groƟ.
Ignorant before the heavens of my life,
Ever since those wondrous days of Creation
You don't survive in me
As in sleeping-drink spices
Suddenly she steps, wrapped into the wind,
O how all things are far removed
Whom will you cry to, heart? More and more lonely,
Other vessels hold wine, other vessels hold oil
Being apart and lonely is like rain.
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
The deep parts of my life pour onward,
Take me by the hand;
Encircled by her arms as by a shell,
Night. O you whose countenance, dissolved
This night, agitated by the growing storm,
We lack all knowledge of this parting. Death
Interior of the hand. Sole that has come to walk
How I have felt that thing that's called 'to part',
The summer hums. The afternoon fatigues;
And you wait, keep waiting for that one thing
How my body blooms from every vein
The steadfastness of generations of nobility
I am like a flag in the center of open space.
Some day, if I should ever lose you,
Whoever now weeps somewhere in the world,
(From the diaries of Malte Laurids Brigge)
I am no one and never will be anyone,
(Capri, Piccola Marina)
As in one's hand a lighted match blinds you before
Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors
Telling you all would take too long.
Come let us watch the sun go down
The future: time's excuse
All this stood upon her and was the world
And night and distant rumbling; now the army's
They are assembled, astonished and disturbed
See how in their veins all becomes spirit;
Strange violin, why do you follow me?
His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
O hour of my muse: why do you leave me,
Look how the same possibilities
I am always going from door to door,
I am blind, you out there -- that is a curse,
In the beginning life was good to me;
Breathing: you invisible poem! Complete
Rose, you majesty-once, to the ancients, you were
Be ahead of all parting, as though it already were
Call to me to the one among your moments
A tree ascended there. Oh pure transendence!
O you tender ones, walk now and then
You who are close to my heart always,
Though the world keeps changing its form
But you now, dear girl, whom I loved like a flower whose
This laboring through what is still undone,
The saintly hermit, midway through his prayers
The rich and fortunate do well to keep silent,
It is life in slow motion,
I held myself too open, I forgot
Music: breathing of statues. Perhaps:
I would like to sing someone to sleep,
Windows pampered like princes always see
My whole life is mine, but whoever says so
What birds plunge through is not the intimate space,
What fields are as fragrant as your hands?
Who says that all must vanish?
That is my window. Just now
World was in the face of the beloved--,
You who never arrived
You, you only, exist.

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy