Sonnets to Orpheus, Part
One, IV
You who let yourselves feel:
enter the breathing
that is more than your own.
Let it brush your
cheeks
as it divides and rejoins beside you.
Blessed ones, whole
ones,
you where the heart begins:
You are the bow that shoots the
arrows
and you are the target.
Fear not the pain. Let
its weight fall back
into the earth;
for heavy are the mountains, heavy
the seas.
The trees you planted in
childhood have grown
too heavy. You cannot bring them along.
Give
yourselves to the air, to what you cannot hold.
~ Rainer
Maria Rilke ~
(In Praise of Mortality,
translated and edited by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)
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