The Gazelle
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Enchanted being: how can the harmony of two chosen words ever achieve the rhyme, as with a sign, that comes and goes in you.
Out of your brow rise leaf and lyre,
and everything yours already runs as metaphor through love songs, the words of which, soft as rose petals, for the one who no longer reads,
laid upon the eyes, which he closes
so that he may see you: carried about as if each slender leg were charged with leaps,
not to be fired as long as the neck
holds the head high in listening: as when, while bathing in a dark forest, the bather interrupts herself:
the forest pool still reflected in her turning face.
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Andy Fore – Tue, 2007 – 01 – 02 21:35