A Walk

My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave...
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

Translated by Robert Bly

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Other poems of RILKE (126)

Comments (3)

wonderful write...10+
intresting topic, it is very thoutful and hooray it rhymes, none of mine do which is kinda of sad... i should try to do that but a great topic amongst rhyming words :)
Thanks for sharing your love and cartharsis of pain in this penning...the descriptive emotion was palable