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
To Music
Rainer Maria Rilke
(2)
Poem topics: heart, silence, time, pure, stranger, holy, point, distance, departure, music, space, language, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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