feelings welling up from lost lives …

See, we don’t love like flowers, in a

single year: when we love, an ancient

sap rises in our arms. O, girls,

this: that we loved inside us, not one to come, but

the immeasurable seething: not a single child,

but the fathers: resting on our depths

like the rubble of mountains: the dry river-beds

of those who were mothers – : the whole

silent landscape under a clouded or

clear destiny – : girls, this came before you.


And you yourself, how could you know – that you

stirred up primordial time in your lover. What feelings

welled up from lost lives. What

women hated you there. What sinister men

you roused up in his young veins. Dead

children wanted you…..O, gently, gently,

show him with love a confident daily task – lead him

near to the Garden, give him what outweighs

those nights……..

                        Be in him……………

from the end of Rilke’s
Third Duino Elegy