Night (This night, agitated by the growing storm)


Rainer Maria Rilke

This night, agitated by the growing storm,

how it has suddenly expanded its dimensions—,

that ordinarily would have gone unnoticed,

like a cloth folded, and hidden in the folds of time.

Where the stars give resistance it does not stop there,

neither does it begin within the forest's depths,

nor show upon the surface of my face

nor with your appearance.

The lamps keep swaying, fully unaware:

is our light lying?

Is night the only reality

that has endured through thousands of years?

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