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.
Rainer Maria Rilke, 1924 (Germany, 1875-1926), translated by Robert Bly (source: The Poem Hunter)
Image cover: La Ronde performance by Yasmine Hugonnet (ph. A-L. Lechat)