379

379

Rilke : LIEBEN, XIII

Already the day was dying.

The woods were otherworldly.

Bullocks stood among blooming cyclamen,

Under ranks of tall dark firs

That a fragrant wind blew.

You were dozing, tired from the road.

I spoke your name, softly :

From your white heartseed

A force of ecstasy broke, and a firelily rose.

The evening was red,

And your mouth so red,

And so warm, where my lips found it,

The flames passed through us,

And would climb the walls

And bring the house to ashes—

The wood was silent. The day had passed.

A ghost had risen to us,

Had purged the daylight and our want.

The great moon alighted on our hilltop.

Our peace stepped to shore

From a white boat.