You don't survive in me
because of memories;
nor are you mine because
of a lovely longing's strength.

What does make you present
is the ardent detour
that a slow tenderness
traces in my blood.

I do not need
to see you appear;
being born sufficed for me
to lose you a little less.

Added: on January 25th, 2005 at 2:30 PM | Viewed: 2397 times | Comments (1)

Poet: Rainer Maria Rilke
Poem: Interior Portrait

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