Tuesday, September 18, 2018

Love Song :Best Rainer Maria rilke Poems On Love

2CELLOS - Love Story

You who never arrived
Rainer Maria Rilke

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods--
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house-- , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening...”

You, You Only, Exist
Rainer Maria Rilke

You, you only, exist.
We pass away, till at last,
our passing is so immense
that you arise: beautiful moment,
in all your suddenness,
arising in love, or enchanted
in the contraction of work.

To you I belong, however time may
wear me away. From you to you
I go commanded. In between
the garland is hanging in chance; but if you
take it up and up and up: look:
all becomes festival!

Love song
Rainer Maria Rilke

How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.

Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws *one* voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.

Thursday, September 13, 2018

Du im Voraus verlorne Geliebte/ Ein Liebesgedicht Von Rainer maria Rilke

Du im Voraus verlorne Geliebte
Rainer Maria Rilke

Du im Voraus
verlorne Geliebte, Nimmergekommene,
nicht weiß ich, welche Töne dir lieb sind.
Nicht mehr versuch ich, dich, wenn das Kommende wogt,
zu erkennen. Alle die großen
Bilder in mir, im Fernen erfahrene Landschaft,
Städte und Türme und Brücken und un-
vermutete Wendung der Wege
und das Gewaltige jener von Göttern
einst durchwachsenen Länder:
steigt zur Bedeutung in mir
deiner, Entgehende, an.

Ach, die Gärten bist du,
ach, ich sah sie mit solcher
Hoffnung. Ein offenes Fenster
im Landhaus —, und du tratest beinahe
mir nachdenklich heran. Gassen fand ich, —
du warst sie gerade gegangen,
und die Spiegel manchmal der Läden der Händler
waren noch schwindlich von dir und gaben erschrocken
mein zu plötzliches Bild. — Wer weiß, ob derselbe
Vogel nicht hinklang durch uns
gestern, einzeln, im Abend?

Saturday, September 8, 2018

Nothing that's important is lost by Moguel Sousa tavares

"And once again I believe that nothing that's important really becomes lost.
We just delude ourselves, thinking that we own the things, the moments and
the others. Still with me are all the dead persons who I loved, all the friends
who turned away, all the happy days that faded.

I lost nothing but the illusion that everything could be mine forever."
Miguel Sousa Tavares

Tuesday, September 4, 2018

Serenity by Ralph Waldo emerson

But real action is in silent moments.
The epochs of our life are not in the visible facts of our choice
of a calling, our marriage, our acquisition of an office, and the like,
but in a silent thought by the wayside as we walk; in a thought which
revises our entire manner of life and says,—
"Thus hast thou done, but it were better thus".
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Monday, September 3, 2018

How weak Our Mind is by Guy De maupassant

How weak our mind is; how quickly it is terrified and unbalanced
as soon as we are confronted with a small, incomprehensible fact.
Instead of dismissing the problem with: "We do not understand
because we cannot find the cause," we immediately imagine terrible
mysteries and supernatural powers.
Guy de Maupassant

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