The poem
Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors which it passes to a row of ancient trees. You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth.
leaving you, not really belonging to either, not so hopelessly dark as that house that is silent, not so unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing that turns to a star each night and climbs--
leaving you (it is impossible to untangle the threads) your own life, timid and standing high and growing, so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out, one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star.
This poem makes me feel rather uncomfortable... could it have been mistaken with "Evening" added: Feb 20 2003 (Volume: The Riverside Anthology of Literature Year: 1927) I am so so happy to have found this site, discover & share favourite poets! I have just one suggestion... I think that giving the indication of your source (Translator & publication) would be widely appreciated. There are many different translations…
Read the whole commentThis poem makes me feel rather uncomfortable... could it have been mistaken with "Evening" added: Feb 20 2003
(Volume: The Riverside Anthology of Literature
Year: 1927)
I am so so happy to have found this site, discover & share favourite poets! I have just one suggestion... I think that giving the indication of your source (Translator & publication) would be widely appreciated.
There are many different translations of Rainer Maria Rilke poetry... Albert Ernest Flemming & Stephen Mitchell are often referred to for capturing Rilke's nuances (the debate upon accuracy is always present & the core of translation) & specialists have their own opinion upon Edward Snow or J. B. Leishman... The debate upon translation is worth mentioning somewhere, & in any case, the translator chosen for the poem published in this site should absolutely be mentioned somewhere in my opinion. This said... thank you for the pleasure you bring us with your site ;o)
NOT BY MARY OLIVER
Please edit this poem. This is not by Mary Oliver.
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