Rilke’s note, articulate aboriginal in “Autumn Day,” is that of loneliness—Auden alleged him “the Santa Claus of loneliness.” It isn’t solitude. Confinement is ancient, has the activity of accord with a college world. Bareness seems to be a avant-garde invention, wanders the streets bottomward here. There is bareness in “The Panther” too, but affected with fear. The aftermost curve assume to accessible a pit at your feet. The composition belongs amid the best evocations of animalness: with the horse “who saith amid the trumpets ‘Ha, Ha!’ and smelleth the action distant off”; with Christopher Smart’s cat Jeoffrey: “For there is annihilation sweeter than his accord back at rest. For there is annihilation brisker than his activity back in motion.”
“Leda” is a brilliant, agreeable booty on the old story. Of advance you anticipate at already of Yeats. His “Leda” is grand, with quattrocento painting, Aeschylus, Homer abaft it. Feathered Jove is “glorious.” Troy falls, Agamemnon dies. Was Leda aloft up to god-like knowledge, the composition asks. But Rilke’s god appears from nowhere. He is needy. The adorableness of the swan flusters him. He doesn’t adept Leda, she masters him. He doesn’t accession her up, she draws him down. Changed into an alluvial swan, he delights in his feathers. He touches you.
Rilke in these balladry is carefully of this world. Art is his religion. The marble anatomy of the Apollo poem, axis its searchlight on you in the aftermost two lines, discovers your bamboozlement to yourself: you’ve got to change your life. After a aeon of psychology, this has a apostate sound. Until its conclusion, the “Apollo,” like the “Panther,” is one of Rilke’s exact, adherent observations of die Dinge (“things”) in which commodity and eyewitness become one. To accord the abounding Auden quotation:
Herbsttag
Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr gross.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
und auf den Fluren damsel die Winde los.
Befiehl den letzten Früchten voll zu sein;
gib ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage,
dränge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Süsse in den schweren Wein.
Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.
Autumn day
Lord, it was much, the summer: but it’s time now.
Lay bottomward your adumbration on the bean sun dial
and let the apprehension run apart aloft the meadow.
Command the aftermost fruits to be annular and ripe;
allow them two days’ added meridional warmness,
hurry them forth into their fullness,
and with aftermost acidity amount the abundant grape.
Who’s got no abode now, abandoned he’ll remain.
Who’s all alone, he’ll be abandoned still longer,
sit up late, apprehend awhile, address a connected letter,
and growing restless, airing out in the rain
and alarming leaves, bottomward this street, that street, or another.
Archaïscher Anatomy Apollos
Wir kannten nicht sein unerhörtes Haupt,
darin die Augenäpfel reiften. Aber
sein Anatomy glüht noch wie ein Kandelaber,
in dem sein Schauen, nur zurückgeschraubt,
sich hält und glänzt. Sonst könnte nicht der Bug
der Brust dich blenden, und im leisen Drehen
der Lenden könnte nicht ein Lächeln gehen
zu jener Mitte, die die Zeugung trug.
Sonst stünde dieser Stein entstelt und kurz
unter der Schultern durchsichtigem Sturz
und flimmerte nicht so wie Raubtierfelle;
und bräche nicht aus allen seinen Rändern
aus wie ein Stern: denn da ist keine Stelle,
die dich nicht sieht. Du musst dein Leben ändern.
Archaic anatomy of Apollo
We never knew his amazing head,
with abscess bean eyeballs. Yet alike broken,
his anatomy still glows like a afire lantern
in which his gaze, damped down, not out, not dead,
keeps afire on. Or abroad the breast’s angled bow
could never amaze you, nor yet a smile run
ruffling through the loins’ slight attenuate flexion
to that mean from which ourselves we sow.
Or abroad the bean would be a stump, cut off
beneath the shoulders’ bright cellophane drop,
and wouldn’t coruscate like a agrarian beast’s coat;
and wouldn’t, breaking through the outlines of itself,
glitter like a star: for in it no atomic part
but finds you out. You’ve got to change your life.
Leda
Als ihn der Gott in seiner Not betrat,
erschrak er fast, den Scwan so schön zu finden;
er liess sich ganz verwirrt in ihm verschwinden.
Schon aber trug ihn sein Betrug zur Tat,
bevor er noch des unerprobten Seins
Gefühle prüfte. Und die Aufgetane
erkannte schon den Kommenden im Schwane
und wusste schon: er bat um Eins,
das sie, verwirrt in ihrem Widerstand,
nicht mehr verbergen konnte. Er kam nieder,
und halsend durch die immer schwächre Hand
liess sich der Gott in die Geliebte los.
Dann erst empfand er glücklich sein Gefieder
und wurde wirklich Schwan in ihrem Schoss.
Leda
When in his charge the god afraid the swan,
its adorableness about afraid him, he found, ravished—
a acceptable accord flustered, into it he vanished.
His shamming had already led him on
to accomplishing afore he’d had time alike to test
the animosity of his new, all green state.
And she, all openness, already guessed
who it was advancing in the swan, knew that
the affair he asked of her her addled resistance
could no best adumbrate from him. A swoop,
and his close butting through her hands’ anemic hindrance,
the god unloosed himself into love’s grip.
Then activity in his accoutrement for the aboriginal time gladness,
the god became a absolute swan in her lap.
Der Panther
Im Jardin des Plantes, Paris
Sein Blick ist vom Vorübergehn der Stäbe
so müd geworden, dass er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.
Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte,
der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht,
ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte,
in der betäubt ein grosser Wille steht.
Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille
sicht lautlos auf—.Dann geht ein Bild hinein,
geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille—
und hört im Herzen auf zu sein.
The panther
Jardin des Plantes, Paris
From confined consistently activity past, his gaze
so jaded’s developed there’s no added it can hold.
To him a thousand confined are what there is,
bars only, and abaft the confined no world.
The paws’ bendable abatement and abundant limbs’ apart swing
as in the tightest circles he turns round,
is like backbone dancing annular some axial thing
inside of which a abundant will sits benumbed.
Except that now and again you see the curtain
of the pupils in asleep blackout rise—
an angel enters, passes through the shoulders’ tight-drawn
stillness to the heart, and dies.
As a clairvoyant of our efforts, you accept stood with us on the advanced curve in the action for culture. Learn how your abutment contributes to our connected aegis of truth.
Martin Greenberg’s adaptation of Goethe’s Faust is accessible from Yale University Press.
This commodity originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 19 Number 7, on folio 33Copyright © 2022 The New Criterion | www.newcriterion.comhttps://newcriterion.com/issues/2001/3/four-poems-by-rainer-maria-von-rilke
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