| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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among us, grief-filled, no more protected than we, and nevertheless able to bless like the blessed. From what realm, when your beloved appears, do you take the future? More than will ever be. One who knows distances out to the outermost star is astonished when he discovers the magnificent space in your hearts. How, in the crowd, can you spare it? You, full of sources and night. Are you really the same as those children who on the way to school were rudely shoved by an older brother? Unharmed by it. While we, even as children, disfigured ourselves forever, you were like bread on the altar before it is changed. The breaking away of childhood left you intact. In a moment, you stood there, as if completed in a miracle, all at once. We, as if broken from crags, even as boys, too sharp at the edges, although perhaps sometimes skillfully cut; we, like pieces of rock that have fallen on flowers. Flowers of the deeper soil, loved by all roots, you, Eurydice's sisters, full of holy return behind the ascending man. We, afflicted by ourselves, gladly afflicting, gladly needing to be afflicted. We, who sleep with our anger laid beside us like a knife. You, who are almost protection where no one protects. The thought of you is a shade-giving tree of sleep for the restless creatures of a solitary man. |
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whaddya want? I've never heard of this guy until now and this particular piece is meaningless. |
Furthermore, this piece is hardly meaningless. It's about men and women, and more. Read it again, grasshopper. |
i've read it many times. like much poetry, its so god damn ambigious and personal its annoying and in the end meaningless. i did look up a page on him when you started this thread. the fact that his mother made him wear dresses and the subsequent androgeny, thats more interesting that this poem. |
What do you want, a fucking blueprint? I think you'd really dig Rilke, patrick. Of course, you'd have to pry your head out of your ass first. Try the third Duino Elegy, Edward Snow translation. |
and its that kind of intellectual snobbery that annoys me...assuming i have my head in my ass cause i actually say what, i believe, many people feel but are too afraid to say, fearing some sort intellectual isolationism. poetry's best put to music fully exploiting the rhythm and meter some of the best poetry has. would Dylan have had the impact he did if he was just a poet? doubtful. his musical accompanyment drove it home. |
Quoth this Raven - Nevermore. |
Who's the snob? You're describing Rilke as "mundane" and you're calling me a snob? My, that's all ironical 'n' shit! Chow a slice of humble pie, patty boy. |
the raven is a great story. humble pie was a horrible band. |
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