The Machine endangers all we
have made.
We allow it to rule instead of obey.
To build a house, cut the stone sharp and fast:
the carver's hand takes too long to feel its way.
We allow it to rule instead of obey.
To build a house, cut the stone sharp and fast:
the carver's hand takes too long to feel its way.
The Machine never hesitates,
or we might escape
and its factories subside into silence.
It thinks it's alive and does everything better.
With equal resolve it creates and destroys.
and its factories subside into silence.
It thinks it's alive and does everything better.
With equal resolve it creates and destroys.
But life holds mystery for
us yet. In a hundred places
we can still sense the source: a play of pure powers
that - when you feel it - brings you to your knees.
we can still sense the source: a play of pure powers
that - when you feel it - brings you to your knees.
There are yet words that
come near the unsayable,
and, from crumbling stones, a new music
to make a sacred dwelling in a place we cannot own.
and, from crumbling stones, a new music
to make a sacred dwelling in a place we cannot own.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
~
(In Praise of Mortality,
trans. A. Barrows and J. Macy)
Web archive of Panhala postings: www.panhala.net/Archive/Index.html
To subscribe to Panhala, send a blank email
to Panhala-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
To unsubscribe from Panhala, send a blank email to Panhala-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com