Heart-Slopes - Rainer Maria Rilke

Out on the heart-slopes. See, how tiny down there,
See, the last village of words, and higher,
But how little still, one last
Farmhouse of feeling. Do you know it?
Out on the heart-slopes. Stone ground
Under the hands. Something still
Grows here: on a dumb ledge,
An unknowing plant blooms, sings out.
And the knower? Ah, who began to know
And is silent now, out on the heart-slopes.
There fully conscious many a mountain
Creature, sure-footed, lingers,
Passes. And a huge bird securely
Circles the pure peak of denial – But
Insecure, here on the slopes of the heart…

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Rainer Maria Rilke (1875 – 1926) Germany (born Prague)

Translated by A. S. Kline

Source: Poetry in Translation