rilke.de - Gedichte - 17/25
rilke.de
rilke.de - Gedichte - 17/25
For long have I wandered,
in search of a place I can call my own
For a peace unknown,
Where one day I could
Rest my bones and be still
in search of a place I can call my own
For a peace unknown,
Where one day I could
Rest my bones and be still
Still
‘Wer reitet so spät, Durch Nacht und Wind? Es ist der Vater Mit seinem Kind.’
Philip K. Dick • The Man in the High Castle (Penguin Modern Classics)
when the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn’t make any sense.
the world is too full to talk about.
ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn’t make any sense.
