Get Your Premium Membership

Rainer Maria Rilke Short Poems | Poetry

Famous Short Rainer Maria Rilke Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Rainer Maria Rilke. A collection of the all-time best Rainer Maria Rilke short poems

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...



Rainer Maria Rilke | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Rainer Maria Rilke

A Walk

 My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp; it has inner light, even from a distance- and charges us, even if we do not reach it, into something else, which, hardly sensing it, we already are; a gesture waves us on answering our own wave.
.
.
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Falling Stars

 Do you remember still the falling stars
that like swift horses through the heavens raced
and suddenly leaped across the hurdles
of our wishes--do you recall? And we
did make so many! For there were countless numbers
of stars: each time we looked above we were
astounded by the swiftness of their daring play,
while in our hearts we felt safe and secure
watching these brilliant bodies disintegrate,
knowing somehow we had survived their fall.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Early Spring

 Harshness vanished.
A sudden softness has replaced the meadows' wintry grey.
Little rivulets of water changed their singing accents.
Tendernesses, hesitantly, reach toward the earth from space, and country lanes are showing these unexpected subtle risings that find expression in the empty trees.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Interior Portrait

 You don't survive in me
because of memories;
nor are you mine because
of a lovely longing's strength.
What does make you present is the ardent detour that a slow tenderness traces in my blood.
I do not need to see you appear; being born sufficed for me to lose you a little less.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Narcissus

 Encircled by her arms as by a shell,
she hears her being murmur,
while forever he endures
the outrage of his too pure image.
.
.
Wistfully following their example, nature re-enters herself; contemplating its own sap, the flower becomes too soft, and the boulder hardens.
.
.
It's the return of all desire that enters toward all life embracing itself from afar.
.
.
Where does it fall? Under the dwindling surface, does it hope to renew a center?


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Again And Again However We Know The Landscape Of Love

 Again and again, however we know the landscape of love
and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,
and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others
fall: again and again the two of us walk out together
under the ancient trees, lie down again and again
among the flowers, face to face with the sky.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Moving Forward

 The deep parts of my life pour onward,
as if the river shores were opening out.
It seems that things are more like me now, That I can see farther into paintings.
I feel closer to what language can't reach.
With my senses, as with birds, I climb into the windy heaven, out of the oak, in the ponds broken off from the sky my falling sinks, as if standing on fishes.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

For Hans Carossa

 Losing too is still ours; and even forgetting
still has a shape in the kindgdom of transformation.
When something's let go of, it circles; and though we are rarely the center of the circle, it draws around us its unbroken, marvelous curve.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Fires Reflection

 Perhaps it's no more than the fire's reflection
on some piece of gleaming furniture
that the child remembers so much later
like a revelation.
And if in his later life, one day wounds him like so many others, it's because he mistook some risk or other for a promise.
Let's not forget the music, either, that soon had hauled him toward absence complicated by an overflowing heart.
.
.
.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Evening Love Song

 Ornamental clouds
compose an evening love song;
a road leaves evasively.
The new moon begins a new chapter of our nights, of those frail nights we stretch out and which mingle with these black horizontals.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Little Tear-Vase

 Other vessels hold wine, other vessels hold oil
inside the hollowed-out vault circumscribed by their clay.
I, as smaller measure, and as the slimmest of all, humbly hollow myself so that just a few tears can fill me.
Wine becomes richer, oil becomes clear, in its vessel.
What happens with tears?-They made me blind in my glass, made me heavy and made my curve iridescent, made me brittle, and left me empty at last.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

What Fields Are As Fragrant As Your Hands?

 What fields are as fragrant as your hands?
You feel how external fragrance stands
upon your stronger resistance.
Stars stand in images above.
Give me your mouth to soften, love; ah, your hair is all in idleness.
See, I want to surround you with yourself and the faded expectation lift from the edges of your eyebrows; I want, as with inner eyelids sheer, to close for you all places which appear by my tender caresses now.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Heartbeat

 Only mouths are we.
Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things? His giant heartbeat is diverted in us into little pulses.
And his giant grief is, like his giant jubilation, far too great for us.
And so we tear ourselves away from him time after time, remaining only mouths.
But unexepectedly and secretly the giant heartbeat enters our being, so that we scream ----, and are transformed in being and in countenance.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Night (This night agitated by the growing storm)

 This night, agitated by the growing storm,
how it has suddenly expanded its dimensions--,
that ordinarily would have gone unnoticed,
like a cloth folded, and hidden in the folds of time.
Where the stars give resistance it does not stop there, neither does it begin within the forest's depths, nor show upon the surface of my face nor with your appearance.
The lamps keep swaying, fully unaware: is our light lying? Is night the only reality that has endured through thousands of years?


by Rainer Maria Rilke

The Wait

 It is life in slow motion,
it's the heart in reverse,
it's a hope-and-a-half:
too much and too little at once.
It's a train that suddenly stops with no station around, and we can hear the cricket, and, leaning out the carriage door, we vainly contemplate a wind we feel that stirs the blooming meadows, the meadows made imaginary by this stop.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

You You Only Exist

 You, you only, exist.
We pass away, till at last, our passing is so immense that you arise: beautiful moment, in all your suddenness, arising in love, or enchanted in the contraction of work.
To you I belong, however time may wear me away.
From you to you I go commanded.
In between the garland is hanging in chance; but if you take it up and up and up: look: all becomes festival!


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Extinguish Thou My Eyes

 Extinguish Thou my eyes:I still can see Thee,
deprive my ears of sound:I still can hear Thee,
and without feet I still can come to Thee,
and without voice I still can call to Thee.
Sever my arms from me, I still will hold Thee with all my heart as with a single hand, arrest my heart, my brain will keep on beating, and Should Thy fire at last my brain consume, the flowing of my blood will carry Thee.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Blank Joy

 She who did not come, wasn't she determined
nonetheless to organize and decorate my heart?
If we had to exist to become the one we love,
what would the heart have to create?

Lovely joy left blank, perhaps you are
the center of all my labors and my loves.
If I've wept for you so much, it's because I preferred you among so many outlined joys.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Water Lily

 My whole life is mine, but whoever says so
will deprive me, for it is infinite.
The ripple of water, the shade of the sky are mine; it is still the same, my life.
No desire opens me: I am full, I never close myself with refusal- in the rythm of my daily soul I do not desire-I am moved; by being moved I exert my empire, making the dreams of night real: into my body at the bottom of the water I attract the beyonds of mirrors.
.
.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Sense Of Something Coming

 I am like a flag in the center of open space.
I sense ahead the wind which is coming, and must live it through.
while the things of the world still do not move: the doors still close softly, and the chimneys are full of silence, the windows do not rattle yet, and the dust still lies down.
I already know the storm, and I am troubled as the sea.
I leap out, and fall back, and throw myself out, and am absolutely alone in the great storm.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

What Survives

 Who says that all must vanish?
Who knows, perhaps the flight
of the bird you wound remains,
and perhaps flowers survive
caresses in us, in their ground.
It isn't the gesture that lasts, but it dresses you again in gold armor --from breast to knees-- and the battle was so pure an Angel wears it after you.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Greek Love-Talk

 What I have already learned as a lover,
I see you, beloved, learning angrily;
then for you it distantly departed,
now your destiny stands in all the stars.
Over your breasts we will together contend: since as glowingly shining they've ripened, so also your hands desire to touch them and their own pleasure superintend.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Telling You All

 Telling you all would take too long.
Besides, we read in the Bible how the good is harmful and how misfortune is good.
Let's invite something new by unifying our silences; if, then and there, we advance, we'll know it soon enough.
And yet towards evening, when his memory is persistent, one belated curiousity stops him before the mirror.
We don't know if he is frightened.
But he stays, he is engrossed, and, facing his reflection, transports himself somewhere else.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Song Of The Sea

 (Capri, Piccola Marina)


Timeless sea breezes,
sea-wind of the night:
you come for no one;
if someone should wake,
he must be prepared
how to survive you.
Timeless sea breezes, that for aeons have blown ancient rocks, you are purest space coming from afar.
.
.
Oh, how a fruit-bearing fig tree feels your coming high up in the moonlight.


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Slumber Song

 Some day, if I should ever lose you,
will you be able then to go to sleep
without me softly whispering above you
like night air stirring in the linden tree?

Without my waking here and watching
and saying words as tender as eyelids
that come to rest weightlessly upon your breast,
upon your sleeping limbs, upon your lips?

Without my touching you and leaving you
alone with what is yours, like a summer garden
that is overflowing with masses
of melissa and star-anise?