A message forged by silence
In the end, those who were carried off early no longer need us:
they are weaned from earth’s sorrows and joys,
as gently as children outgrow the soft breasts
of their mothers. But we, who do need such great mysteries,
we for whom grief is so often the source
of our spirit’s growth: could we exist without them?
Is the legend meaningless that tells how, in the lament for Linus,
the daring first notes of song pierced through
the barren numbness; and then in the startled space
which a youth as lovely as a god had suddenly left forever,
the Void felt for the first time that harmony
which now enraptures and comforts us.
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Title and body:
excerpts from Rilke’s Duino Elegies, The First Elegy
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That’s profound. I reflect on the death of my father in 1969 when I read it.
Very thought provoking.
Thank you K. and Ina for your responses.
Sometimes just posting something here helps me to begin articulating what I am thinking. Someone I admired a great deal died this week and I thought of this poem. Our lives are changed by those who impact us deeply. They are like ingredients in the stew of our lives, we change over time and our stories about the past and people we have known change over time but they are always part of who we were, who we are and who we will be. I say this also because I lost a parent early in life and I know that has colored how I translate the world.
I just noticed it also fits in with the notions of absence and presence that tend to surface here. Hmmm…
Reminds me, in a way, of “Musee des Beaux-Arts.” Death as part of a bigger picture.
I love the poetry you post here.
“they are weaned from earth’s sorrows and joys”
What a beautiful thought.
That was some lovely verse, nicely done!
Hi, Tigereye.
I was wondering if the poetry was resonating here, glad to hear it has for you.
The poem you mentioned was new to me. Thank you for mentioning it; I love it when people bring their connections and stretch my mind. The ending is so powerful, it made me think about how casually we begin to regard the everyday brutalities of the world around us,
“In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away/Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may/Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,/But for him it was not an important failure…”
I ran into a familiar Auden as I searched for the poem you mentioned, Song IX has these beautiful elegaic lines: (I have ruthlessly dismantled the poem, taking my favorite parts)
“He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song…..
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood….”
Thank you, Shawn.
“they are weaned from earth’s sorrows and joys”
does frame being carried away from the earth differently…and so gently…doesn’t it?
Thanks, David.
I am a mere extractor for this one. This is the last portion of Rilke’s First Elegy from the Dunio Elegies. It is a few pages long, this is about 1/3 of the last page, the ending. The title is culled from a line in the middle of his work, “But listen to the voice of the wind and the ceaseless message that forms itself out of silence.” I also swiped “and helped” from the translation of the last line as it seems to be implied there.
Since I began writing here (and longer), silences and absence/presence have been recurring themes.
*grumps* my TBR pile is getting larger. It’s not entirely your fault, but you’re going to have to shoulder SOME of the blame. ;) This is why I should have stayed in school…You have such wonderful taste, Ivy, I always learn something and come away thinking. Thank you!
It would be my pleasure to shoulder some of that, little fluffy cat. Your message is well received…thank you.
*scratches behind little fluffy cat’s ears*
My mind works in this way. I looked at your next post and thought “Oh. That’s poetry. I’m not in the mood for poetry right now.” I looked at this post and thought it might be poetry but there was a link that might have been a link to Linus Pauling so I clicked on the link and thought I’d have to read the poetry in order to understand it. I did but now I’ve forgotten what I was going to say about it. Oh well.
Here’s a link to Linus Pauling.
Thanks for the link. I’m reasonably familiar with his work. I’ll explain more later.
Hey there, BGG. The link has more to do with my silly sense of humor than anything…sort of a playful nod to the meandering mind.
Sometimes I wonder about my wondering mind and the fact that one can surf for hours and hours just wandering. That’s a thing about books. They keep me a little more focused.
True.
The Internet has been very appealing to my meandering tendencies but it is far too easy to lose track of time and amass more and more things of interest to investigate while rarely staying on one thing long enough to master or remember it well enough to put it to use…eventually it can become somewhat like the match stick girl squandering her matches as winter approaches.