on some piece of gleaming furniture
that the child remembers so much later
like a revelation.
And if in his later life, one day
wounds him like so many others,
it's because he mistook some risk
or other for a promise.
Let's not forget the music, either,
that soon had hauled him
toward absence complicated
by an overflowing heart....
Rainer Maria Rilke (1875 - 1926) Germany
Translated by A. Poulin
Source: Poemhunter
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