You Who Never Arrived
You who never arrived
Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by Stephen Mitchell
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 upon,— 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…
Du im Voraus
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
Bildern 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?
More Posts from Stellareqm and Others
Me after coming back to this hellsite after 9 years
You kept me like a secret, but i kept you like an oath.
Can I haunt you? Like romantically.
So many people disregard Camus as cold, detached, cynical.
But I ask you, what is a cynic, if not a broken romantic?
“Find meaning. Distinguish melancholy from sadness. Go out for a walk. It doesn't have to be a romantic walk in the park, spring at its most spectacular moment, flowers and smells and outstanding poetical imagery smoothly transferring you into another world. It doesn't have to be a walk during which you'll have multiple life epiphanies and discover meanings no other brain ever managed to encounter. Do not be afraid of spending quality time by yourself. Find meaning or don't find meaning but "steal" some time and give it freely and exclusively to your own self. Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn't make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be.”
// Albert Camus, from “Notebooks, 1951-1959”
how unfortunate it is that love doesn’t find you worthy enough to even give you a chance, as if even heartbreak is a privilege you are denied
- shya via yousmellofstorms
I can make no sense of the water inside me
i don’t want to look cute and coquette, i want to look like a ghost haunting you until your last breath.
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𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜, 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚜
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