||[Nov. 24th, 2013|06:39 pm]
Now that cold and wind have stripped the trees the sky can reach all the way to the ground. It lies against the scrubby lawns and the gray pavements, connecting them to the clouds and the stars. Light and darkness now penetrate everything; the naked world has nowhere to hide. Sounds, no longer baffled, ring out. Dogs and birds astonish one another. When moonless night falls I walk to the trunk of the oak and look up at the shape of its bare branches. The darkness spilling over me has no shade in it, but only celestial distance. My voice has gone out there to scatter and fade, and nothing can ever reassemble those sounds, but the air carries their imprint forever. Everything that has ever happened is in that sky, even the fall of the leaves that has brought it here to touch the bark of the bare trees. |
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadows let the wind go free.
Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander along the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing
—translated by Stephen Mitchell
I like this post a lot, both the Rilke and the "celestial distance" of the darkness. (I'm already used to long evenings of sitting and reading, but letter-writing is almost a lost art.)
I think it's been about 25 years since I last wrote a long letter.
It's been quite a while since I've written even a long LJ post.