rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

As early as Wednesday I could have the windows open all afternoon, flooding the house with fresh spring air. Today's rain will then be soaking the roots of green plants, and slowly making its way through capillaries to find the sunlight again from some blossom now a mere bud. The bedraggled months of the winter that outstayed its welcome will all be gone— and good riddance to them. I'm more than ready to be pulling up foxtails on warm evenings. Better to sweat a bit than to be trudging hunched and wet from cold, windblown rain.




Sunday Verse


Entrance


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Whoever you are: step out of doors tonight,
Out of the room that lets you feel secure.
Infinity is open to your sight.
Whoever you are.
With eyes that have forgotten how to see
From viewing things already too well-known,
Lift up into the dark a huge, black tree
And put it in the heavens: tall, alone.
And you have made the world and all you see.
It ripens like the words still in your mouth.
And when at last you comprehend its truth,
Then close your eyes and gently set it free.

—translated by Dana Gioia
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