Sunday, June 01, 2014

968. Memory - Rilke

Translated by Edward Snow

And you wait, you wait for that one thing
that will infinitely enlarge your life;
that gigantic, the stupendous,
the awakening of stones,
depths turned round toward you.

The volumes bound in rust and gold
flicker dimly on the shelves;
and you think of lands traveled across,
of paintings, of the clothes of
women found and lost.

And then suddenly you know: it was then.
You rise, and before you
stands the fear and prayer and shape
of a vanished year.

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