The Walk

 

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)

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-walk/

 

Image cover: La Ronde performance by Yasmine Hugonnet (ph. A-L. Lechat)

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