THE SONNETS TO ORPHEUS FIRST PART I A tree ascended there. Oh pure transcendence! Oh Orpheus sings! Oh tall tree in the ear! And all things hushed. Yet even in that silence a new beginning, beckoning, change appeared. Creatures of stillness crowded from the bright unbound forest, out of their lairs and nests; and it was not from any dullness, not from fear, that they were so quiet in themselves, but from just listening. Bellow, roar, shriek seemed small inside their hearts. And where there had been at most a makeshift hut to receive the music, a shelter nailed up out of their darkest longing, with an entryway that shuddered in the wind-- you built a temple deep inside their hearing. II And it was almost a girl and came to be out of this single joy of song and lyre and through her green veils shone forth radiantly and made herself a bed inside my ear. And slept there. And her sleep was everything: the awesome trees, the distances I had felt so deeply that I could touch them, meadows in spring: all wonders that had ever seized my heart. She slept the world. Singing god, how was that first sleep so perfect that she had no desire ever to wake? See: she arose and slept. Where is her death now? Ah, will you discover this theme before your song consumes itself?-- Where is she vanishing? . . . A girl almost . . . . Excerpted from Duino Elegies and the Sonnets to Orpheus by Rainer Maria Rilke All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
