Night (O you whose countenance)

by

Rainer Maria Rilke



Night. O you whose countenance, dissolved

in deepness, hovers above my face.

You who are the heaviest counterweight

to my astounding contemplation.


Night, that trembles as reflected in my eyes,

but in itself strong;

inexhaustible creation, dominant,

enduring beyond the earth's endurance;


Night, full of newly created stars that leave

trails of fire streaming from their seams

as they soar in inaudible adventure

through interstellar space:


how, overshadowed by your all-embracing vastness,

I appear minute!—

Yet, being one with the ever more darkening earth,

I dare to be in you.



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