|THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016).|
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.
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.