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 weaknesss. 

But we, while wholly concentrating on one thing, 
already feel the pressure of another. 
Hatred is our first response. And lovers, 
are they not forever invading one another's 
boundaries? -although they promised space, 
hunting and homeland. Then, for a sketch 
drawn at a moment's impulse, a ground of contrast 
is prepared, painfully, so that we may see. 
For they are most exact with us. We do not know 
the contours of our feelings. We only know  
what shapes them from the outside.  

Who has not sat, afraid, before his own heart's 
curtain? It lifted and displayed the scenery 
of departure. Easy to understand. The well-known 
garden swaying just a little. Then came the dancer. 
Not he! Enough! However lightly he pretends to move: 
he is just disguised, costumed, an ordinary man 
who enters through the kitchen when coming home. 
I will not have these half-filled human masks; 
better the puppet. It at least is full. 
I will endure this well-stuffed doll, the wire, 
the face that is nothing but appearance. Here out front 
I wait. Even if the lights go down and I am told: 
"There's nothing  more to come," -even if 
the grayish drafts of emptiness come drifting down 
from the deserted stage -even if not one 
of my now silent forebears sist beside me 
any longer, not a woman, not even a boy- 
he with the brown and squinting eyes-: 
I'll still remain. For one can always watch. 

Am I not right?  You, to whom life would taste 
so bitter, Father, after you - for my sake - 
slipped of mine, that first muddy infusion 
of my necessity. You kept on tasting, Father, 
as I kept on growing, troubled by the aftertaste 
of my so strange a future as you kept searching 
my unfocused gaze -you who, so often since 
you died, have been afraid for my well-being, 
within my deepest hope, relinquishing that calmness, 
the realms of equanimity such as the dead possess 
for my so small fate -Am I not right? 

And you, my parents, am I not right? You who loved me 
for that small beginning of my love for you 
from which I always shyly turned away, because 
the distance in your features grew, changed, 
even while I loved it, into cosmic space 
where you no longer were...: and when I feel 
inclined to wait before the puppet stage, no, 
rather to stare at is so intensely that in the end 
to counter-balance my searching gaze, an angel 
has to come as an actor, and begin manipulating 
the lifeless bodies of the puppets to perform. 
Angel and puppet! Now at last there is a play! 
Then what we seperate can come together by our 
very presence. And only then the entire cycle 
of our own life-seasons is revealed and set in motion. 
Above, beyond us, the angel plays. Look: 
must not the dying notice how unreal, how full 
of pretense is all that we accomplish here, where 
nothing is to be itself. O hours of childhood, 
when behind each shape more that the past lay hidden, 
when that which lay before us was not the future. 

We grew, of course, and sometimes were impatient 
in growing up,  half for the sake of pleasing those 
with nothing left but their own grown-upness. 
Yet, when alone, we entertained ourselves 
with what alone endures, we would stand there 
in the infinite space that spans the world and toys, 
upon a place, which from the first beginnniing 
had been prepared to serve a pure event. 

Who shows a child just as it stands? Who places him 
within his constellation, with the measuring-rod 
of distance in his hand. Who makes his death 
from gray bread that grows hard, -or leaves 
it there inside his rounded mouth, jagged as the core 
of a sweet apple?.......The minds of murderers 
are easily comprehended. But this: to contain death, 
the whole of death, even before life has begun, 
to hold it all so gently within oneself, 
and not be angry: that is indescribable. 

Élégie 

Arbres de O de la vie, OH, ce qui quand l'hiver vient ? Nous ne sommes 
pas d'un esprit. Ne pas être comme des oiseaux émigrant à l'unisson. 
Et rattrapé, en retard, nous nous poussons dans le vent et tombons à 
la terre dans les étangs indifférents. Fleurissant et se 
défraîchissant nous comprenons en tant qu'un. Et quelque part les 
lions errent, tout à fait ignorant, dans leur magnificence, de tous 
les weaknesss. 

Mais nous, tout en complètement se concentrant sur une chose, sentons 
déjà la pression des autres. La haine est notre première réponse. 
Et des amoureux, n'envahissent-ils pas pour toujours des frontières 
de chacun ? - bien qu'ils ont promis l'espace, la chasse et la patrie. 
Puis, pour un croquis dessiné à l'impulsion d'un moment, une terre 
de contraste est préparée, péniblement, de sorte que nous puissions 
voir. Pour eux sont les plus exacts avec nous. Nous ne savons pas les 
découpes de nos sentiments. Nous savons seulement ce qui les forme de 
l'extérieur.  

Qui ne s'est pas reposé, effrayé, avant le rideau de son propre 
coeur ? Il a soulevé et a montré le paysage du départ. Facile à 
comprendre. Le jardin bien connu balançant juste. Alors est venu le 
danseur. Pas il ! Assez ! De quelque manière que légèrement il 
feint pour se déplacer: il est juste déguisé, costumé, un homme 
ordinaire qui entre par la cuisine en venant à la maison. Je n'aurai 
pas ces masques humains à moitié pleins; améliorer la marionnette. 
Elle est au moins pleine. Je supporterai cette poupée bien-bourrée, 
le fil, le visage qui n'est rien mais aspect. Hors de l'avant 
j'attends. Même si les lumières descendent et je suis dit: "il n'y 
a rien à davantage venir," - même si les ébauches grisâtres du 
vide viennent dérivant vers le bas de l'étape abandonnée - même si 
non une de mon maintenant silencieux s'abstient le sist près de moi 
plus longtemps, pas une femme, ne pas l'égaliser garçon- avec le 
brun et les yeux louchants -: j'immobile resterai. Pour un peut 
toujours observer. 

Est-ce que je ne ai pas raison ? Tu, à qui la vie goûterait si 
amère, père, après toi - dans mon intéret - glissé du mien, qui 
première infusion boueuse de ma nécessité. Tu as gardé sur 
l'échantillon, père, pendant que je continuais à la croissance, 
préoccupée par l'après-goût de mon si étrange un futur pendant 
que tu maintenais la recherche ma unfocused le regard fixe - toi qui, 
tellement souvent depuis que tu es mort, ont eu peur pour mon 
bien-être, dans mon espoir plus profond, abandonnant ce calme, les 
royaumes de l'équanimité tels que les morts possèdent pour le mon 
ainsi petit destin - suis moi pas redresses ? 

Et est-ce que tu, mes parents, je ne ai pas raison ? Tu qui m'a aimé 
pour cela petit commencement de mon amour pour toi de ce que je 
toujours timidement ai tourné loin, parce que la distance dans vos 
dispositifs s'est développée, changé, même tandis que je l'aimais, 
en espace cosmique où tu n'étais plus…: et le moment où je me 
sens incliné pour attendre avant l'étape de marionnette, non, 
regarder fixement plutôt est tellement intensément qu'à la fin pour 
équilibrer mon regard fixe de recherche, un ange doit venir en tant 
qu'acteur, et commence à manoeuvrer les corps sans vie des 
marionnettes pour exécuter. Ange et marionnette ! Enfin il y a un jeu 
! Puis ce que nous seperate pouvons venir ensemble par notre présence 
même. Et seulement le cycle entier de nos propres vie-saisons est 
indiqué et alors mis en marche. Au-dessus de, au delà de nous, 
l'ange joue. Regard: nécessité pas la notification de mort comment 
irréel, comment complètement du pretense est tout ce que nous 
accomplissons ici, où rien ne doit être lui-même. Heures de O 
d'enfance, quand derrière chaque forme davantage qui après la 
configuration cachée, quand cela qui s'étendent avant que nous 
n'aient pas été le futur. 

Nous avons accru, étions naturellement, et parfois impatients en 
grandissant, la moitié pour satisfaire ceux avec rien gauche mais 
leur propre croissants-upness. Cependant, si seuls, nous nous sommes 
amusés avec quel seul supporte, nous nous tiendrions là dans 
l'espace infini qui enjambe le monde et les jouets, sur un endroit, 
qui de premier beginnniing avait été préparé pour servir un 
événement pur. 

Qui montre un enfant juste comme il se tient ? Qui le place dans sa 
constellation, avec la mesurer-tige de la distance dans sa main. Qui 
fait sa mort à partir du pain gris qui se développe dur, - ou des 
feuilles il là intérieur sa bouche arrondie, ébréchée comme le 
noyau des esprits doux de l'apple?...... un.The des meurtriers sont 
facilement compris. Mais ceci: pour contenir la mort, la totalité de 
la mort, même avant la vie a commencé, à la tenir toute tellement 
doucement dans se, et à ne pas être fâchée: c'est indescriptible. 

 
O Bäume des Lebens, OH-, was, wenn Winter kommt? Wir liegen nicht bei 
einem Verstand. Nicht wie die Vögel in den Einklängen sein 
abwandernd. Und überholt, überfällig, stoßen uns wir in den Wind 
und fallen zur Masse in gleichgültige Teiche. Blühend und verwelkend 
begreifen wir als ein. Und irgendwo durchstreifen Löwen, ziemlich 
ahnungslos, in ihrer Großartigkeit, aller möglicher weaknesss. 

Aber wir, beim auf eine Sache insgesamt sich konzentrieren, glauben 
bereits dem Druck von anderen. Haß ist unsere erste Antwort. Und 
Geliebte, dringen sie nicht für immer eines anderen Grenzen eine ein? 
- obgleich sie Raum, die Jagd und Heimaten versprachen. Dann für eine 
Skizze, die am Antrieb eines Momentes gezeichnet wird, wird ein Boden 
des Kontrastes schmerzlich vorbereitet damit wir sehen können. Für 
sind sie mit uns am genausten. Wir kennen nicht die Formen unserer 
Gefühle. Wir wissen nur, was sie von der Außenseite formt.  

Wer hat nicht gesessen, ängstlich, vor Vorhang seines eigenen 
Herzens? Es hob an und zeigte die Landschaft der Abfahrt an. Einfach 
zu verstehen. Der weithin bekannte Garten, der gerade wenig 
beeinflußt. Kam dann der Tänzer. Nicht er! Genug! Jedoch leicht 
täuscht er vor umzuziehen: er wird gerade verkleidet, kostümiert, 
ein gewöhnlicher Mann, der durch die Küche hereinkommt, wenn er nach 
Hause kommt. Ich habe nicht diese half-filled menschlichen Schablonen; 
die Marionette verbessern. Sie ist mindestens voll. Ich halte diese 
gut-angefüllte Puppe, die Leitung, das Gesicht, das nichts ist, aber 
Aussehen aus. Hier aus Frontseite warte ich. Selbst wenn die Lichter 
unten gehen und ich werde erklärt: "es gibt nichts mehr zu kommen," - 
selbst wenn die graulichen Entwürfe der Leere treibend unten vom 
verlassenen Stadium kommen - selbst wenn nicht eins von meinem jetzt 
leisen sist neben mir irgendwie länger abläßt, nicht eine Frau, 
Junge-ihn mit dem Braun und den squinting Augen nicht glätten -: ich 
ruhig bleibe. Für ein kann immer aufpassen. 

Habe ich nicht Recht? Sie, zu dem das Leben so bitter schmecken 
würde, Vater, nach Ihnen - für meinen Grund - geglitten von meinen, 
die erste schlammige Infusion meiner Notwendigkeit. Sie hielten auf 
Tasting, Vater, während ich auf dem Wachsen hielt, bemüht durch den 
Nachgeschmack von meinem so merkwürdigen eine Zukunft, während Sie 
das Suchen mein unfocused Anstarren - Sie hielten, das, so häufig, 
seit Sie starben, für mein Wohl, innerhalb meiner tiefsten Hoffnung 
Angst gehabt haben und diese Stille abgetreten, die Reiche der 
Gleichmut wie die Toten, besitzen für mein, also kleines Schicksal - 
sind ich nicht berichtigen? 

Und Sie, meine Eltern, habe ich nicht Recht? Entlang, Sie, das mich 
für das kleiner Anfang meiner Liebe für Sie liebte von, welchem ich 
immer schüchtern drehte weg, weil der Abstand in Ihren Eigenschaften 
wuchs, geändert, sogar während ich es liebte, in kosmischen Raum, in 
dem Sie nicht mehr… waren: und wann ich fühle geneigt, um vor dem 
Marionette Stadium, Nr. zu warten, eher anzustarren sind so intensiv, 
daß im Ende zum Ausgleichen mein suchendes Anstarren, ein Engel als 
Schauspieler kommen muß und fangen an, die leblosen Körper der 
Marionetten zu manipulieren, um durchzuführen. Engel und Marionette! 
Nun schließlich gibt es ein Spiel! Dann, was wir seperate durch 
unsere Anwesenheit zusammen kommen können. Und nur dann wird der 
gesamte Zyklus unserer eigenen Leben-Jahreszeiten in Bewegung 
aufgedeckt und eingestellt. Über, über uns hinaus, spielt der Engel. 
Blick: Muß nicht die sterbende Nachricht, wie unwirklich, wie voll 
vom pretense alles ist, das wir hier vollenden, wo nichts sein soll 
selbst. O Stunden der Kindheit, wenn hinter jeder Form mehr die hinter 
der Lage versteckt, wenn das, die legen, bevor wir nicht die Zukunft 
waren. 

Wir wuchsen, selbstverständlich, und waren manchmal ungeduldig, wenn 
sie, Hälfte um des Gefallens die mit nichts aufwachsen, das aber link 
sind, ihrem eigenen willen gewachsen-upness. Jedoch als allein, 
unterhielten uns wir mit welchem allein aushält, wir würden stehen 
dort im endlosen Raum, der die Welt und die Spielwaren, nach einem 
Platz überspannt, der vom ersten Beginnniing vorbereitet worden war, 
um einen reinen Fall zu dienen. 

Wer zeigt ein Kind, gerade während es steht? Wer ihn innerhalb seiner 
Konstellation setzt, mit der Messenstange des Abstandes in seiner 
Hand. Wer seinen Tod vom grauen Brot bildet, das stark wächst, - oder 
Blätter es dort Innere seine gerundete Öffnung, zerrissen, wie der 
Kern ein des süssen apple?.......The Verstandes der Mörder leicht 
begriffen werden. Aber dieses: um Tod zu enthalten, hat das Ganze des 
Todes, gleichmäßig vor dem Leben, ihn allen innerhalb selbst so 
leicht zu halten angefangen, und verärgert nicht zu sein: das ist 
unbeschreibbar. 

 
Árvores da vida, oh de O, que quando o inverno vier? Nós não somos 
de uma mente. Não ser como os pássaros no unison que migram. E 
alcançado, overdue, nós empurramo-nos no vento e caímo-nos à terra 
em lagoas indiferentes. Florescendo e withering nós compreendemos 
como um. E em algum lugar os leões vagueiam, completamente 
inconsciente, em seu magnificence, de todos os weaknesss. 

Mas nós, ao completamente concentrar em uma coisa, sentimos já a 
pressão de outra. O hatred é nossa primeira resposta. E amantes, 
não estão invadindo para sempre os limites um another's? - embora 
prometeram o espaço, a caça e o homeland. Então, para um esboço 
extraído no impulso de um momento, uma terra do contraste é 
preparada, dolorosa, de modo que nós possamos ver. Para são os mais 
exatos com nós. Nós não sabemos os contornos de nossos sentimentos. 
Nós sabemos somente o que lhe dá forma da parte externa.  

Quem não se sentou, receoso, antes da cortina do seu próprio 
coração? Levantou e indicou o cenário da partida. Fácil de 
compreender. O jardim well-known que balança apenas pouco. Veio 
então o dancer. Não ele! Bastantes! De qualquer modo levemente finge 
mover-se: é disfarçado apenas, trajado, um homem ordinário que 
entre através da cozinha ao vir para casa. Eu não terei estas 
máscaras humanas half-filled; melhorar o fantoche. Está ao menos 
cheio. Eu resistirei esta boneca bem-enchida, o fio, a cara que não 
é nada mas aparência. Aqui para fora da parte dianteira eu espero. 
Mesmo se as luzes vão para baixo e eu estou dito: "não há nada mais 
vir," - mesmo se os esboços cinzentos do emptiness vêm drifting para 
baixo do estágio deserted - mesmo if.not um do minha agora silenciosa 
forebears o sist ao lado de mim  mais por muito tempo, não uma 
mulher, para não o nivelar menino- com o marrom e os olhos squinting 
-: eu imóvel remanescerei. Para um pode sempre prestar atenção. 

Não sou eu direito? Você, a quem a vida provaria assim amarga, pai, 
após você - para minha causa - deslizado de meus, que primeiro 
infusion enlameado de minha necessidade. Você manteve-se no gosto, 
pai, enquanto eu me mantive no crescimento, incomodado pelo aftertaste 
do meu assim estranho um futuro enquanto você manteve procurarar meu 
unfocused o olhar - você que, assim frequentemente desde que você 
morreu, estêve receoso para meu bem estar, dentro de minha esperança 
mais profunda, abandonando esse calmness, os reinos do equanimity tais 
como os mortos possui para o meu assim que fate pequeno - é mim não 
endireita? 

E você, meus pais, não sou eu direito? Você que me amou para aquele 
começo pequeno de meu amor para você de qual eu girei sempre tìmida 
afastado, porque a distância em suas características cresceu, 
mudado, mesmo quando eu a amei, no espaço cosmic em onde você estava 
não mais por muito tempo…: e em quando eu sinto inclined para 
esperar antes do estágio do fantoche, No., para olhar fixamente 
rather é assim intensa que na extremidade para contrabalançar meu 
olhar procurarando, um angel tem que vir como um ator, e começa a 
manipular os corpos lifeless dos fantoches para executar. Angel e 
fantoche! Agora no último há um jogo! Então o que nós seperate 
podemos vir junto por nossa presença very. E somente então o ciclo 
inteiro de nossas próprias vida-estações é revelado e ajustado no 
movimento. Acima de, além de nós, o angel joga. Olhar: obrigação 
não a observação morrendo como unreal, como completamente do 
pretense é tudo que nós realizamos aqui, onde nada deve estar 
próprio. Horas de O da infância, quando atrás de cada forma mais 
que após a configuração escondida, quando isso que colocam antes 
que nós não estiverem o futuro. 

Nós crescemos, fomos naturalmente, e às vezes impatient no 
crescimento acima, a metade para a causa de satisfazer aqueles com o 
nada esquerdo mas seu próprio crescidos-upness. Ainda, quando 
sozinhos, nós entertained com que sozinho resiste, nós estaríamos 
lá no espaço infinito que mede o mundo e os brinquedos, em cima de 
um lugar, que do primeiro beginnniing seja preparado para servir a um 
evento puro. 

Quem mostra uma criança apenas enquanto está? Quem o coloca dentro 
de sua constelação, com a meç-haste da distância em sua mão. Quem 
faz sua morte do pão cinzento que cresce duramente, - ou as folhas 
ele lá interior sua boca arredondada, entalhada como o núcleo de 
mentes doces do apple?...... um.The dos murderers é compreendido 
fàcilmente. Mas isto: para conter a morte, o todo da morte, uniforme 
antes da vida começou, a prendê-la assim delicadamente toda dentro 
doneself, e a não estar irritado: isso é indescribable. 

 
¿Árboles de la vida, oh, qué de O cuando viene el invierno? No 
estamos de una mente. No ser como los pájaros en unísono que 
emigran. Y alcanzado, atrasado, nos empujamos en el viento y nos 
caemos a la tierra en las charcas indiferentes. Floreciendo y 
marchitando comprendemos como uno. Y en alguna parte los leones vagan, 
absolutamente inconsciente, en su magnificence, de cualquier 
weaknesss. 

Pero, mientras que enteramente se concentran en una cosa, sentimos ya 
la presión de otra. El odio es nuestra primera respuesta. ¿Y los 
amantes, no están invadiendo por siempre los límites de otra persona 
uno? - aunque prometieron el espacio, la caza y la patria. Entonces, 
para un bosquejo dibujado en el impulso de un momento, una tierra del 
contraste está preparada, doloroso, de modo que poder ver. Para ellos 
son los más exactos con nosotros. No sabemos los contornos de 
nuestras sensaciones. Sabemos solamente qué lo forma del exterior.  

¿Quién no se ha sentado, asustado, antes de la cortina de su propio 
corazón? Levantó y exhibió el paisaje de la salida. Fácil 
entender. El jardín bien conocido que sacude apenas poco. Entonces 
vino el bailarín. ¡No él! ¡Bastantes! Él finge al menos ligeramente 
moverse: apenas lo disfrazan, vestido, un hombre ordinario que entre a 
través de la cocina al venir a casa. No tendré estas máscaras 
humanas medias llenas; mejorar la marioneta. Es por lo menos llena. 
Aguantaré esta muñeca bien-rellena, el alambre, la cara que no es 
nada solamente aspecto. Aquí fuera de frente espero. Incluso si van 
las luces abajo y me dicen: "no hay nada más venir," - incluso si los 
bosquejos grisáceos del vacío vienen mandilando abajo de la 
etapa abandonada - incluso si no una de mi ahora silenciosa se 
abstiene de sist al lado de mí  más de largo, no a mujer, para no 
igualarlo muchacho- con el marrón y los ojos que escudriñan -: 
inmóvil permaneceré. Para uno puede mirar siempre. 

¿No tengo razón? Usted, a quien la vida probaría tan amarga, padre, 
después de usted - para mi motivo - deslizado el mío, que primera 
infusión fangosa de mi necesidad. ¿Usted guardó en la prueba, padre, 
mientras que guardé en el crecimiento, preocupado por el regusto de 
mi tan extraño un futuro mientras que usted mantuvo buscar mi 
unfocused la mirada fija - usted que, tan a menudo desde que usted 
murió, ha estado asustado para mi bienestar, dentro de mi esperanza 
más profunda, abandonando ese calmness, los reinos del equanimity 
tales como los muertos posee para mi así que sino pequeño - es yo no 
endereza? 

¿Y usted, mis padres, no tengo razón? Usted que me amó para eso 
principio pequeño de mi amor para usted de cuál di vuelta siempre 
tímido lejos, porque la distancia en sus características creció, 
cambiado, incluso mientras que la amé, en espacio cósmico donde 
usted estaba no más de largo…: y cuando me siento inclinado para 
esperar antes de la etapa de la marioneta, no, mirar fijamente algo es 
tan intenso que en el extremo para contrapesar mi mirada fija que 
busca, un ángel tiene que venir como un agente, y comienza a 
manipular los cuerpos sin vida de las marionetas para realizarse. 
¡Ángel y marioneta! ¡Ahora en el último hay un juego! Entonces qué 
seperate podemos venir junto por nuestra misma presencia. Y solamente 
después el ciclo entero de nuestras propias vida-estaciones se revela 
y se fija en el movimiento. Sobre, más allá de nosotros, el ángel 
juega. Mirada: necesidad no el aviso que muere cómo es irreal, cómo 
de pretense está por completo todo que logramos aquí, donde está 
estar nada sí mismo. Horas de O de la niñez, cuando detrás de cada 
forma más que más allá de la endecha ocultada, cuando eso que ponen 
antes de que no fuéramos el futuro. 

Crecimos, éramos por supuesto, y a veces impacientes en el 
crecimiento para arriba, la mitad para el motivo de satisfacer ésos 
con nada izquierdo pero su propio crecidos-upness. Todavía, cuando 
esta'n solos, nos entretuvimos con qué solo aguanta, nosotros 
estaríamos parados allí en el espacio infinito que atraviesa el 
mundo y los juguetes, sobre un lugar, que del primer beginnniing 
había sido preparado para servir un acontecimiento puro. 

¿Quién demuestra a niño apenas mientras que está parado? Quién lo 
coloca dentro de su constelación, con la medir-barra de la distancia 
en su mano. Quién hace su muerte del pan gris que crece 
difícilmente, - o las hojas él allí interior su boca redondeada, 
hecha punta como la base de las mentes dulces del apple?...... un.The 
de asesinos se comprende fácilmente. Pero esto: contener muerte, el 
conjunto de la muerte, uniforme antes de vida ha comenzado, a llevarla 
a cabo toda tan suavemente dentro de se, y a no estar enojado: eso es 
indescriptible. 

(These are public search results on the terms: 'Rainer Maria Rilke: Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy poem')

• Before His Own Heart's Curtain : iSmSmEsSAgES by peter den (2013/04/15 01:56)

  By peter den | Apr 15, 2013. Who has not sat, afraid, before his own heart's curtain? Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies, “The Fourth Elegy,” translated from German by Albert Ernest Flemming ...
• Dog Heads In The Ice by Higs; (2013/03/18 06:00)

  The Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke. The First Elegy. Who, should I cry, would hear me among the ranks of angels? And even should one suddenly press me heart to heart. I'd dissolve into nothing against such starker being—. beauty is ..... The Fourth Elegy. O trees of life! Oh, when are you ever wintry? We're not one, not linked in awareness. like migratory birds. Spent and late, we're. leaves that launch ourselves at sudden wind. and fall into an indifferent pond.
• Ursa*Major: <b>RAINER MARIA RILKE</b>: SINGER OF SOLITUDE by Neall Calvert (2013/01/05 22:37)

  The volume I had picked up, Selected Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke, carried erratic markings inside in day-glo pink highlighter, so the price was just four dollars. Months later when I picked it up again, I noticed that on the title ...
• To Honour <b>Poet Rainer Maria Rilke</b> | the secret keeper by the secret keeper (2012/12/29 02:15)

  Rilke 501 x 750. Rainer Maria Rilke, was a Bohemian-Austrian poet. Among English-language readers, his best-known works of poetry is the Duino Elegies; his most famous prose work is the Letters To A Young Poet. I received my first ... And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~ b. 4th Dec. 1875 – d. 29th Dec. 1926. Log in to Reply ...
• Interview with Cliff Brooks: The Modern Dervish | Peter Ristuccia&#39;s Blog by Peter (2012/12/11 16:49)

  When this blog is published, the fourth printing will be on its way to distributors. None of us expected these bad boys to .... There are a few poems I consider indispensible – Howl by Allen Ginsberg, Poetry Readings by Charles Bukowski, Passer Mortuus Est by Edna St. Vincent Millay, Duino Elegies: The Tenth Elegy by Rainer Maria Rilke, Under the Harvest Moon by Carl Sandburg, and Possessed by Light by Emeya Warren. If you had to choose, which writer would ...
• "Let my heart&#39;s clear-struck keys ring": The <b>Elegy</b> of <b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b> by annaleighclark (2012/08/12 18:57)

  Rainer Maria Rilke began writing Duino Elegies one hundred years ago this year while visiting -- I am not making this up -- a princess. She lived in the Duino castle along the Adriatic Sea in northeastern Italy. Rilke arrived ...
• Simple Images: Whom can we ever turn to by edgar (2012/07/27 19:26)

  from the First Elegy, Duino Elegies (translated by Stephen Mitchell). by Rainer Maria Rilke. July 27. I'm reading- A Year with Rilke-. Daily Readings from the Best of Rainer Maria Rilke. by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows ...
• Simple Images: Life of a <b>Poet</b> by edgar (2012/07/23 22:17)

  Life of a Poet. Last week, I finished the Life of a Poet, Biography of Rainer Maria Rilke by Ralph Freedman. Rilke's life story gave some insights about the meaning of Duino Elegies and Sonnets to Orpheus and about his earlier poems. The author related almost the linear poetic development of Rilke. The poet's life ... I can read again Duino Elegies and Sonnets to Orpheus with a new discernment. from the Ninth Elegy (of Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke) ...
• MARCO BREUER | CONDITION — HYPERALLERGIC Review by noreply@blogger.com (VON LINTEL GALLERY) (2012/05/28 07:04)

  This is what the poet Rainer Maria Rilke famously wrote in the first “Duino Elegy:” … ... Rilke's “Duino Elegies” brim with longing. ... After traveling back and forth between New York and Germany, he moved here in 1993.
• personal favorites / <b>poetry</b> collections… <b>Duino Elegies</b> by <b>Rainer</b> <b>...</b> by samofthetenthousandthings (2012/05/03 04:43)

  from “The Fourth Elegy” / O Bäume Lebens, o wann winterlich? / Wir sind nicht einig. Sind nicht wie die Zug- / vögel verständigt. Überholt und spät, / so drängen wir uns plötzlich Winden auf / und fallen ein auf teilnahmslosen ...
• <b>Rainer Maria Rilke&#39;s Duino Elegies</b>: In The Light of <b>...</b> - Evening sun by Evening Sun (2012/04/28 08:40)

  While reading Rainer Maria Rilke's Duino Elegies are Eligies, poems that are lament over something, one can ask what is it the poet lamenting about, the answer can varied but the poems are mainly about human ... In the Fourth Elegy, he berates the lovers who have reduced their relationship to a charade, which is why they had already incurred the poet's displeasure in the Second Elegy as to an exigent need to understand their true self: “lovers, are you the same?” ...
• Some points on <b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b> | La Bibliotheque! by Katie (2012/04/27 14:17)

  Embodying some of these elements is the early-twentieth century German poet Rainer Maria Rilke, a poet who is denied an appearance in the fifth edition of the Norton Anthology of Poetry. Although these ... The Book of Hours: Prayers to a Lowly God, Duino Elegies, and Sonnets to Orpheus are among his well-known collections today, but the majority of his poems have been posthumously translated. Letters to a ... In the sixth elegy of the Duino Elegies:,. “Fig-tree, for ...
• When <b>Poetry</b> Comes like a Flood: Milton, <b>Rilke</b>, Blake and Julia <b>...</b> by Anita Mathias (2012/04/26 14:47)

  “If the angel comes, it will be because you have wooed him by your grim resolve to be always a beginner,” Rainer Maria Rilke muses. Rilke suffered for most of his life from torturing writers' ... which became his famous Duino Elegy, (Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angelic orders?). Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the ... His writers' block was broken, and the Duino Elegies flowed forth in a torrent. * * *. Milton claimed that he was visited nightly by ...
• The Erection of Life To me, a <b>poet</b>... - kino&#39;s blog by Karin (2012/04/23 16:19)

  Rainer Maria Rilke is a great example of creating his own language with words. There is such ... The fact that this comes at the beginning of the “Duino Elegies”, in the first elegy, is no coincidence because the rest of the elegies that follow will show that potential and fulfill the possibilities. We continue ... As we progress into The Fourth Elegy we are taken further into the loss of protection as we start to feel conflict with our purpose and ask the question, “Am I not right?
• Personality - Teambuilding-Leader by unknown (2012/04/22 07:15)

  ~Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies, "The Fourth Elegy," translated from German by Albert Ernest Flemming. What we do flows from who we are. ~Paul Vitale. There is great security in the prisons we create for ourselves. ~Stephen G. Scalese ...
• we are all service users: impotence by dorka says (2012/04/17 06:44)

  "And somewhere still roam lions who understand in their majesty, nothing of impotence"* *The Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy, Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Alison Croggon. Posted by dork says at 14:44. Labels: poems ...
• Lost <b>poems</b>: The <b>Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy</b> by Alison Croggon (2012/02/04 14:53)

  The Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy. O trees of life, where's winter? We are not one. Are not intelligent as ... Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Alison Croggon. Posted by Alison Croggon at 8:53 AM · Email ThisBlogThis!
• Dossier Journal: Read » Rebecca Keith by Thomas Yagoda (2012/01/21 16:49)

  At the time I was newly enamored with Rilke's poetry, especially the Duino Elegies. ... Note: The title of this piece comes from the Rainer Maria Rilke poem Fourth Elegy as translated by David Young in Duino Elegies ...
• A Stream of Consciousness: Life after Graduation: Some great <b>...</b> by bookworm_317 (2012/01/19 18:46)

  ~Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies, "The Fourth Elegy," translated from German by Albert Ernest Flemming What we do flows from who we are. ~Paul Vitale There is great security in the prisons we create for ourselves.
• Doll Museum: Mechanical Dolls and and their Unnerving History; A <b>...</b> by etquest (2012/01/06 10:41)

  In the following essay, I would like to invite you to follow the poet Rainer Maria Rilke through the psychological world of the doll as he reveals it to us through poetry, short story, and essay. Rilke will show us that the doll in ... The essay "Dolls," written at approximately the same time as the fourth of the Duino Elegies (which also tries to come to terms with pup-pets and dolls), gives us Rilke's reaction upon seeing a collection of dolls in Paris. It is a scathing critique of the ...
• <b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b> – <b>Duino Elegies</b> – The Third <b>Elegy</b> | Art & <b>Poetry</b> by poetsandpoetry (2011/10/16 13:10)

  Art, Poetry, Music, Film, Literature (by Art & Poetry) ... Music, Film, Literature. Home · About · Great Cities · ← Rainer Maria Rilke – Duino Elegies – The Fourth Elegy · Rainer Maria Rilke – Duino Elegies – The Second Elegy → ...
• <b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b> – <b>Duino Elegies – The Fourth Elegy</b> | Art & <b>Poetry</b> by poetsandpoetry (2011/10/16 13:08)

  We, though, while we are intent on one thing, wholly, / feel the loss of some other. Enmity / is our neighbour. Aren't lovers / always arriving at boundaries, each of the other, / who promised distance, hunting, and home?
• <b>Rilke</b>, The <b>Fourth Duino Elegy</b> | memengineering by peterln (2011/10/07 20:34)

  Rilke, The Fourth Duino Elegy. [This is my translation of the fourth of Rainer Maria Rilke's Duino Elegies (1922). Along with the great first and eighth elegies, available here in the archives under November 2009 and May 2010, ...
• Personality Style Toolkit - Teambuilding-Leader by unknown (2011/08/29 12:31)

  ~Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies, "The Fourth Elegy," translated from German by Albert Ernest Flemming. What we do flows from who we are. ~Paul Vitale. We do not deal much in facts when we are contemplating ourselves. ~Mark Twain ...
• <b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b> : <b>Duino Elegies</b>. Translated by A. S. Kline © 2001 <b>...</b> by demosatruong (2011/08/20 18:02)

  The Fourth Elegy. O trees of life, O when are you wintering? We are not unified. We have no instincts. like those of migratory birds. Useless, and late,. we force ourselves, suddenly, onto the wind,. and fall down to an indifferent ...
• How To Dress Well&#39;s Just Once EP (Review) | D <b>...</b> - D é NOUEMENTS by fullisnotheavyasempty (2011/07/09 00:06)

  (The Ninth Elegy of Duino Elegies, Rainer Maria Rilke). It is uncanny that someone like How To Dress Well's Tom Krell, who once upon a ... These four tracks are heightened by its lush, almost breathtaking instrumentation that we can glide along as we explore emotions triggered by these instruments, feelings here are not sung by Krell but bring forth straight from our own listening experience. In “Just Once,” HTDW clears out the lo-fi distinctiveness of his former tracks ...
• Your core values - Teambuilding-Leader by unknown (2011/07/07 17:16)

  ~Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies, "The Fourth Elegy," translated from German by Albert Ernest Flemming. What we do flows from who we are. ~Paul Vitale. We do not deal much in facts when we are contemplating ourselves. ~Mark Twain ...
• First encounters | rimofacup by rachaelwenona (2011/06/11 18:33)

  Rilke, Rainer Maria, Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy (trans: A Poulin, Jr, Mariner Books, 2005). So what is the nature of this 'life' that a puppet begs to receive? From childhood play to the archetypal pull of the religious or ...
• 29th December 1926 – the Death of <b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b> - On This Deity by unknown (2010/12/29 16:54)

  His extraordinary poetic achievements, particularly The Duino Elegies and The Sonnets to Orpheus, are such milestones that he is considered the greatest-ever lyric poet in the German language, and indeed one of the most significant ... with his mentor, lover, muse and literary ally, Lou Andreas-Salomé; a formidable intellect herself and the most significant person in Rilke's life, it was Lou who suggested he change his name from René to the more elegiac Rainer.
• <b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b> and Romantic Pantheism by Nicholas Ethan Mayer (2010/10/16 10:35)

  There he began the poem cycle: Duino Elegies which would remain unfinished for a decade due to depression and a long-lasting writer's block. In the summer of 1921, Rilke found a permanent .... letter 1912, quoted Leishman, Notes Duino Elegies, p.141). Rilke wrote these first twelve lines of the tenth elegy a few months before this letter (only the first two elegies were completed at Duino; third, Paris, 1913; fourth, Munich, 1915; and the remaining six at Murzot, 1922): ...
• <b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b>: <b>Duino Elegies</b>—Part 1 | Enjoying Literature by scottadamlerner (2009/11/18 19:34)

  Rainer Maria Rilke: Duino Elegies—Part 1. by Scott. I'd heard Rilke's name thrown around here and there for years before I read any of his work. It was a mention, in passing, in Gravity's Rainbow that finally sparked enough ...
• October Books | On Journeying with those in Exile by poserorprophet (2009/11/03 14:22)

  Duino Elegies & The Sonnets to Orpheus by Rainer Maria Rilke. As I've been ... Or look at this from the conclusion of the fourth elegy: But this: ... That poem by Rilke has been my favourite poem in the world for ten years solid: ...
• Omss-<b>Poem</b>: From The Tenth <b>Elegy</b> [<b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b>] by Omss Group (2009/11/03 13:04)

  From The Tenth Elegy [Rainer Maria Rilke]. From The Tenth Elegy Ah, but the City of Pain: how strange its streets are: the false silence of sound drowning sound, and there--proud, brazen, effluence from the mold of emptiness-- the gilded hubbub, the bursting monument. How an Angel would stamp out their market of solaces, set up alongside their ..... Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy [Rainer Maria Rilk... Duino Elegies: The First Elegy [Rainer Maria Rilke... Dedication to M. [ Rainer ...
• Omss-<b>Poem</b>: <b>Duino Elegies</b>: The Tenth <b>Elegy</b> [<b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b>] by Omss Group (2009/11/03 12:18)

  Duino Elegies: The Tenth Elegy [Rainer Maria Rilke]. Duino Elegies: The Tenth Elegy That some day, emerging at last from the terrifying vision. I may burst into jubilant praise to assenting angels! That of the clear-struck keys of the heart not ...
• Omss-<b>Poem</b>: <b>Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy</b> [<b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b>] by Omss Group (2009/11/03 12:17)

  Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy 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.
• Omss-<b>Poem</b>: <b>Duino Elegies</b>: The First <b>Elegy</b> [<b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b>] by Omss Group (2009/11/03 12:15)

  Duino Elegies: The First Elegy [Rainer Maria Rilke]. Duino Elegies: The First Elegy Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels' hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly pressed me against his heart, I would perish ...
• Tempo de Criar*: Nós não somos concordes. by Andreia (2009/07/16 07:29)

  Mas nós quando intentamos uma coisa inteiramente sentimos já o custo de outra a desdobrar-se." Rilke Descobri mais tarde, que este texto faz parte do poema "Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy" de Reiner Maria Rilke.
• Quotes on Brains of <b>Poets</b> - dcreid.ca - BC <b>Poet</b> and Author by D. C. Reid (2009/05/07 12:00)

  There is more than a book length of information on this site regarding poetry and the human brain, several bibliographies and it has taken several years of research to find, digest and write the information. This is the only ..... Rainier Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies. Beauty is ..... That part of the subconscious mind is about moving information from the left and right hemisphere back and forth, integrating melody with words. And this is ..... Rainer Maria Rilke – eighth Duino Elegy. If there was ...
• PASSAGES: Look Both Ways by jacky bowring (2009/04/21 12:16)

  Rainer Maria Rilke (C. F. MacIntyre, translation) "The Ninth Elegy" Duino Elegies (1911-1922). Unité d'Habitation, Jan 2009, JB. "… the spirits have to ... ArtBabble Redesign Coming December 4th. 5 months ago. artforum.com ...
• Cleopatra&#39;s Handmaiden: Spring <b>Rilke</b> by Charmi (2009/03/01 07:47)

  Spring Rilke. Poetry came my way rather later in life, middle-age, and it seems like I'll never catch up on my reading. That's not an entirely bad thing. I will not have idle eyes. I finally bought some Rilke, Duino Elegies. It looks like he probably is all that. Here are some excerpts from "Fourth Elegy", without the proper formatting. Blogger just isn't ... (Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies, Translated by David Young, W.W. Norton & Company, 1978). Posted by Charmi at 9:47 ...
• KrautBlog: On <b>Rilke</b> by Ulrich (2008/07/24 07:57)

  ... at 10:57 AM · ·. Labels: Rainer Maria Rilke, translation ... I just started the Duino Elegies, and I can't get it out of my head that these were written by someone on the cusp of switching from a depressed to manic phase. I've experienced that, and .... When you said that, I went back to the original German version of the fourth elegy's opening lines, which reads "Und irgendwo gehn Loewen noch and wissen/solang sie herrlich sind, von keiner Ohnmacht." Gass translates ...
• <b>rainer maria rilke</b> | the notebooks of malte laurids brigge | <b>poetry</b> <b>...</b> by gron (2007/11/10 02:37)

  Leben und Lieder (Life and Songs) (1894) / * Larenopfer (Lares' Sacrifice) (1895) / * Traumgekrönt (Dream-Crowned) (1897) / * Advent (Advent) (1898) / * Mir zur Feier (To me Only Celebration) (1909) / * Das Stunden-Buch ...
• harvey&#39;s Site - Quotation - harveyjhone - Multiply by unknown (2007/10/03 23:08)

  ... before his own heart's curtain? ~Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies, "The Fourth Elegy," translated from German by Albert Ernest Flemming We do not deal much in facts when we are contemplating ourselves. ~Mark Twain ...
• Jack Flanders / ZBS Fans - Paranormal Media - Ghosts <b>...</b> by unknown (2007/07/27 14:02)

  Rainer Maria Rilke, "First Elegy" from The Duino Elegies. Trans. Stephen Mitchell. Back to top ... Fourth Tower of Inverness and Moon Over Morocco are my favs. Amy. Don't you know yet? Fling the emptiness out of your arms ...
• Dispatches from M. Allen Cunningham: Newsweek: <b>Rilke</b> & Banville by mcunningham (2007/07/23 13:39)

  Among them are The Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke. ... "Is there comfort in knowing that the Fourth Elegy is done? -- does that bring solace .... -Shannon: A Poem of the Lewis & Clark Expedition by Campbell McGrath; ...
• <b>Rilke</b> in translation | Of Books and Bicycles by Dorothy W. (2007/05/31 15:36)

  Rilke in translation. I'm now halfway through Rilke's Duino Elegies, and am loving the experience of reading it. In an effort to understand it better, I've begun to check out other translations online when I've finished a section from the ... But to show you what I mean about the translations, here's a short section from the Fourth Elegy, as translated by David Young: ... I guess all those possibilities lie within the original German and only go to show the richness of the poem.
• Into the dark « leo photophile by photophile (2006/10/21 09:49)

  ... in the almost imperceptible foreground. I took maybe ten shots and this is the one that satisfied me. Ship and Castle Hotel, St Mawes, October 2006. Lucem demonstrat umbra – the darkness shows forth the light. Rilke ends his Elegies thus: But if the endless dead woke a symbol in us,/ see they would point perhaps to the catkins/ hanging from bare hazels/ or they would intend the rain, falling on dark soil in spring-time. Rainer Maria Rilke: Tenth Elegy, Duino Elegies ...
• Integral Options Cafe: Sunday <b>Poem</b>: <b>Rainer Maria Rilke</b> by WH (2005/12/11 05:50)

  Sunday Poem: Rainer Maria Rilke. Sonnets to ... In a single month, February, 1922, Rilke finished the Duino Elegies and the Sonnets to Orpheus in one of the most amazing literary explosions known. These two ... My personal favorite of Rilke's poems is the "Seventh Elegy," which begins: Wooing no ... The central theme in the sequence is Orpheus's ability to move back and forth between the lands of the living and the dead, just as Rilke's Angel does in the Elegies.
• Evening <b>Poem Rainer Maria Rilke Poems</b> - <b>Poems</b> About by love poems (2001/01/31 17:00)

  Evening poem by Rainer Maria Rilke ... You can see more famous poems by this author : Dedication To M..., Song, Night (This Night, Agitated By The Growing Storm), Eve, Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy, . Poems by Rainer Maria Rilke ...
• Dedication To M… <b>Poem Rainer Maria Rilke Poems</b> - <b>Poems</b> About by love poems (2001/01/31 17:00)

  Poem Dedication To M... by rainer maria rilke. You can ... You can see more famous poems by this author : Song, Night (This Night, Agitated By The Growing Storm), Eve, Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy, The Sonnets To Orpheus: Book 2: I, .
• Night (This Night, Agitated By The Growing Storm) <b>Poem Rainer</b> <b>...</b> by love poems (2001/01/31 17:00)

  ... By The Growing Storm) by rainer maria rilke. You can see more Rainer Maria Rilke poems and quotes. Also enjoy funny, love, friendship, family poems. You can see more famous poems by this author : Eve, Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy, ...

(These are public search results on the terms: 'Rainer Maria Rilke: Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy poem')