12 januari,2016 Snowflakes

A walk

By R.M Rilke
Translation Robert Bly
My eyes already touch the sunny hill
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has its inner light,even from a distance-
and changes us,even if we do not reach it,
into something else,which hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on,
answering our own wave….
but what we feel is only the wind in our faces

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