Look: the trees exist; the houseswe dwell in stand there stalwartly. Only wepass by it all, like a rush of air. And everything conspires to keep quiet about us, half out of shame perhaps, half out of some secret hope.
Rainer Maria RilkeAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: deutsch
- Born: December 4, 1875
- Died: December 29, 1926
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Sooner or later all mankind will realize that the greatest cure for all the ills and wrongs, the cares, the sorrow and crimes of humanity rests solely in acts of love. Love is the greatest gift from God. It is the divine spark that everywhere produces and restores life. To each and every one of us, love gives us the power to work miracles with your own life and those we touch.
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February. Get ink, shed tears. Write of it, sob your heart out, sing, While torrential slush that roars. Burns in the blackness of the spring. Go hire a buggy. For six grivnas, Race through the noice of bells and wheels. To where the ink and all you grieving. Are muffled when the rainshower falls. To where, like pears burnt black as charcoal, A myriad rooks, plucked from the trees, Fall down into the puddles, hurl. Dry sadness deep into the eyes. Below, the wet black earth shows through, With...
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