Wednesday, December 16, 2015

The Song the Idiot Sings



They don’t bother about me.  They let me be.
They say, “Nothing can happen.”
That’s good.
Nothing can happen.  It all comes and wheels 
steadily around the Holy Ghost,
always around that same Ghost (you know)-
that’s good.

No, of course not, one mustn’t think any danger
could come in that way.
Of course the blood exists.
Blood is the heaviest.  Blood is heavy
Sometimes I think I’ve had too much.
(That’s good.)

Oh, isn’t that a wonderful ball!
round and red as nothing at all.
Good things that you created it.
But will it come if you call?

How strangely this whole thing behaves,
into each other driving, out of each other swimming,
friendly, a touch uncertain.

That’s good.

-Ranier Maria Rilke.

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