I love this poem. This is the Stephen Mitchell translation.
The sky puts on the darkening blue coat
held for it by a row of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight,
one journeying to heaven, one that falls;
and leave you, not at home in either one,
not quite so still and dark as the darkened houses,
not calling to eternity with the passion
of what becomes a star each night, and rises;
and leave you (inexpressibly to unravel)
your life, with its immensity and fear,
so that, now bounded, now immeasurable,
it is alternatively stone in you and star.
-- Rainer Maria Rilke
I love the last line. It is alternately stone in you and star. Aren't most things?
I went to a reading last night. My friend Jim Ruland read. He is almost finished with his novel. I am truly happy for him, his writing is great and he is a hard worker. I think of my novel, mostly abandoned. My characters unsure of where they are headed and how they can resolve their petite dramas. I think of my short stories. I have lost the thread of magic that was carrying me through the writing.
But, it will come back. Good things are on their way. My houseguest leaves tomorrow, (2 weeks of visitors! I love them but my solitary nature is suffering) and I'll have my home to myself again. I look forward to having no one here in the morning. Kind of.