Exposed on the Cliffs of the Heart
Rilke Translation
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart.
See, so small there, See!
The last village of words, and higher,
ever so small, one last enclave of emotion.
Do you recognize it?
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart.
Stone crumbles under your hands.
Somehow even here things bloom.
From the landslide a wildflower sings, unaware.
But the one who knows?
You once knew and now fall silent,
exposed on the cliffs of the heart.
Well and good — cured of consciousness,
sure-footed creatures wander and linger.
A great nesting bird soars,
circling peaks of pure denial —
but finds no shelter,
here on the cliffs of the heart. . .
What a gem of a poem — cryptic, mystic, vivid. I love the Stephen Mitchell translation, but had to take a stab at it myself, there is…
