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 (1)

the mountains and woods Have their day, have their day; What one in the rout Of the fire-born moods Has fallen away? TIME drops in decay, Like a candle burnt out, ......a truthbound- good- to- read poem