Thursday, April 21, 2011

52 poems (week 6)


Rainer Maria Rilke chose his own epitaph, a poem in his Austrian German that translates as:
Rose, oh pure contradiction, delight
of being no one's sleep under so
many lids.
Such an image to ponder as one kneels beside his grave. A lot of his work circles these same ideas, with preoccupations with solitude and a strange anxiety pushing through. His observations of the life around him are more intriguing, capturing little moments of insight like this in 'Child in Red'.
Sometimes she walks through the village in her
little red dress
all absorbed in restraining herself,
and yet, despite herself, she seems to move
according to the rhythm of her life to come.

She runs a bit, hesitates, stops,
half-turns around...
and, all while dreaming, shakes her head
for or against.

Then she dances a few steps
that she invents and forgets,
no doubt finding out that life
moves on too fast.

It's not so much that she steps out
of the small body enclosing her,
but that all she carries in herself
frolics and ferments.

It's this dress that she'll remember
later in a sweet surrender;
when her whole life is full of risks,
the little red dress will always seem right.
Photo Source: Poetry from Sephora's Beauty and the Blog

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