the seventh elegy is my favorite

Don’t think that fate is more than the destiny of childhood;
how often you outdistanced the man you loved, breathing, breathing
after the blissful chase, and passed on into freedom….
(….Like an outstretched arm
is my call. And its hand, held open and reaching up
to seize, remains in front of you, open
as if in defense and warning,
Ungraspable One, far above.)

Rilke, Rainer Maria Rilke, what a lyrical rhythmical name you have…


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