It is life in slow motion,
it's the heart in reverse,
it's a hope-and-a-half:
too much and too little at once.

It's a train that suddenly
stops with no station around,
and we can hear the cricket,
and, leaning out the carriage

door, we vainly contemplate
a wind we feel that stirs
the blooming meadows, the meadows
made imaginary by this stop.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 3155 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Rainer Maria Rilke
Poem: The Wait

Poem of the Day on:
Jan 10 2004
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