Monday, August 24, 2009

Death of the Beloved - Rainer Maria Rilke

She only knew of death what all men say:
that those it takes it thrusts into dumb night.
When he himself, though - no, not snatched away,
but tenderly unloosened from her sight,

had glided over to the unknown shades,
and when she felt that she had now resigned
the moonlight of his laughter to their glades,
and all his ways of being kind:

then all at once she came to understand
the dead through him, and joined them in their walk,
kin to them all; she let the others talk,

and paid no heed to them; and called that land
the fortunately-placed, the ever-sweet.
And groped out all its pathways for his feet.