Website review: Stephen Mitchell Books
Someone discovered this in Poetry
•2 reviews since Apr 13, 2007
poetry
•stephenmitchellbooks.com/transAdapt/poetryRil...
People who like this website
StumbleUpon is the best way to discover great web sites, videos, photos, blogs and more - based on your interests.
Everything is submitted and rated by the community. Discover, share and review the best of the web!
Reviews of this website
LostinAmerica rated 6 months ago
[You who never arrived] You who never arrived in my arms, Beloved, who were lost from the start, I don't even know what songs would please you. I have given up trying to recognize you in the surging wave of the next moment. All the immense images in me--the far-off, deeply-felt landscape, cities, towers, and bridges, and un- suspected turns in the path, and those powerful lands that were once pulsing with the life of the gods-- all rise within me to mean you, who forever elude me. You, Beloved, who are all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing. An open window in a country house--, and you almost stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced upon,-- you had just walked down them and vanished. And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows? perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us yesterday, separate, in the evening... -- Rainer Maria Rilke (translated by Stephen Mitchell)
"The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke," edited and translated by Stephen Mitchell is an excellent collection and includes side by side German and English.
- runtime rated 15 months ago
Orpheus. Eurydice. Hermes. by Rainier Maria Rilke The beautiful charged twist here is that Eurydice turned back first, thus the guy saw her already leaving. And when, abruptly, the god put out his hand to stop her, saying, with sorrow in his voice: He has turned around --, she could not understand, and softly answered Who? Far away, dark before the shining exit-gates, someone or other stood, whose features were unrecognizable. He stood and saw how, on the strip of road among the meadows, with a mournful look, the god of messages silently turned to follow the small figure already walking back along the path, her steps constricted by the trailing graveclothes, uncertain, gentle, and without impatience.
