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Rainer Maria Rilke - understood at once the Rosenpflückerin








Rose Bowl




saw you angry flare, saw two boys
a little clump together,
the hatred and was on the earth rolled like a bee überfallnes animal; actor towering over driver
frantic horses that broke down
eyes disdainfully, peeled bläkend
the bit when the skull from the mouth.

But now you know how the forgotten: before because you have the full Rose Bowl, that is memorable and filled to that extreme of being and tilt, stalling, never-giving ability, standing there, this may be our : utmost to us.

Silent life Aufgehn without end, without

need space-space of that room

take to reduce the things around, its not nearly outline, as Relieved Affairs and louder, a lot of strange Tender and safety certification - to the point:

is something we know like this?

And then like this: that a feeling arises because

stir petals petals?
And this: that one hits like a lid, and underneath are louder

eyelids,

closed, as if, ten times sleeping, had to dampen an interior vision. And this above all: that through these pages the light must pass. From the thousand heavens they filter those slow drop of darkness

in the firelight the tangled bundles of stamens
excited and rearing.

And the movement in the roses, see:
sign of such a small deflection angle,
that they remained invisible, ran their
rays do not deal in the universe.

See that white, which is blessed opened
and stands in the large open sheets
like a Venus upright in its shell;
and blushing, like confused
over apply for a cool down,
and how the cold unfeeling retires ,
and how is the cold, wrapped up in himself,
in the open, dismiss everything. And what
dismiss them as the light and heavy,
how it can be a cloak, a burden, a wing
and a mask, according to which,
and how they dismiss it: as before the beloved.

What can they not be: that was yellow,
that lies hollow and open, not the shell
of a fruit is the same yellow,
collected, orangeröter, juice was? And wars for this too much that Aufgehn, because of the air took its nameless Rosa the bitter aftertaste of the purple?

And Batiste, it is not a dress,

in the still soft and warm breath puts the shirt was the same time it dropped
in the morning shadow of the old forest pool? And this one, opalescent porcelain,

fragile china cup
a flat and filled with small bright butterflies, -

and those there, containing nothing but themselves. And are not all that way just to containing if self-contained means that the world outside

and wind and rain of spring and patience
and debt and balance and masked

fate and darkness of the evening up on the earth clouds change, flight and landing, up to the vague influence of distant stars in a handful to transform inner self.

Now it is careless in the open roses.
Rainer Maria Rilke, around New Year 1907, Capri Off: Part 1 Gedichte.Neue Gedichte.Neue poems. 15.1.11

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