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Saturday, 06 July 2019 12pm

Rest during the escape

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by Rainer Maria Rilke

These, they who are still breathless

they fled through the massacre of children;

oh, how inadvertently they had grown

                       on their way.


As soon as he disappeared, turning back in terror,

the torment of their fear,

they were already drawing on their grey

mule entire cities into danger;


and when, small in the immense region, 

- almost nothing - the strong temples approached,

the idols were shattered, all of them, as if unmasked,

and they completely lost their reason.


It is conceivable that for their going

did everyone have such blind rage within themselves?

They began to be troubled with themselves -

only the child rested in unspeakable peace.


Yet they had to for a short while

resign yourself. Then it passed -

see: the tree, silent above them,

he now reached out like a servant:


he bowed. The same tree

whose branches to the dead pharaohs

For eternity they keep their foreheads,

he bowed. She felt new crowns

to flourish. And they stopped as if in a dream.


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