In the Jardin des Plantes, Paris
This poem stirs my soul with its insight into a life in captivity giving the reader a clear and intense sense of the reality
His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.
As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a centre
in which a mighty will stand paralysed.
Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly –. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.
Rainer Maria Rilke
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for reading, your comments are always welcome