Monday
Jan302012

Sonnets to Orpheus I, 22

We are the achievers.

But this march of time,

consider it as nothing

among what endures.

 

All that hurries

will soon be done,

but that which lingers

is what consecrates us.

 

O, youth, don't waste

your courage on speed,

or squander it in flight.

 

Everything is at rest:

darkness and bright,

blossom and book.

 

Rainer Maria Rilke; translated by Mark S. Burrows (c2009)