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Comment 5 of 5, added on December 16th, 2006 at 1:14 AM.
Only a few lines into this poem, I couldn't help breaking into tears, not merely from Rilke's sublime evocation of unfulfilled longing, but out of recognition that he had captured my own predominant state in life. However, unlike some others commenting here (and not meaning to diminish your own genuine sentiments in any way), I have yet to meet or even identify the person whose absence is so conspicuous in my life, yet for whom I continue to live, waiting -- and it is precisely that sensation of an unidentified absence I found so moving in Rilke's poem.
I keep expecting you could suddenly appear to me anywhere, anytime, yet you appear nowhere, at no time, thus far; all I have to go on are the vague memories of glimpses of your red hair from my dreams, the feeling of deja vu I get when I see a woman with red hair, thinking she might possibly resemble you, wondering if she might turn out to be you, disappionted when she isn't.
It's like Charlie Brown and the Little Red-Haired Girl, but what if he had never seen her, couldn't even admire her from a distance, didn't know who he was pining for, just that she might probably have red hair, might possibly appear at any moment, might live in the same town and walk the same streets, shop the same stores, eat at the same restaurants... just not at the same time.
How ironic, also, to discover Rilke was (briefly) married to Klara, a name resembling the Clare/Clara I thought I remember having heard in a vision once...
Sometime, somewhere, you who never arrived... will arrive. It's what I live for. So where are you?
Tyson from United States
Comment 4 of 5, added on March 31st, 2006 at 1:24 PM.
This beautiful poem eloquenlty conveys the wonder and heartache I've experienced each day musing over a remarkable woman I met and fell deeply in love with a decade ago. Our meeting was by chance and innocent; the relationship, and our new world, lasted but a few weeks; we were (and have remained) in reasonably positive marriages and healthy families; we disengaged out of obligation. Yet a day has not gone by -- in ten years -- that I have not deeply, profoundly experienced what Rilke describes. Ever so slowly have I begun to surrender, having "given up trying to recognize [her] in the surging wave of the next moment." She is "all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing." Indeed, "sometimes in a shop, the mirrors [are] still dizzy with [her] presence and, startled, [give] back my too-sudden image." And I have wondered so many times, "perhaps the same bird echoes through both of us yesterday, separate, in the evening..."
Jack from United States
Comment 3 of 5, added on February 8th, 2006 at 9:43 AM.
This poem was given to me by a man I adore; he read it and thought of me. We are just friends, and he wants it to stay that way, as he is in love with another. A beautiful poem that summed up how I feel.
Zoe from United Kingdom
Comment 2 of 5, added on January 25th, 2005 at 3:08 PM.
such sadness and longing. so beautiful...
Mai from Philippines
Comment 1 of 5, added on September 20th, 2004 at 9:46 PM.
There are only a few "impossible love" poems that i like; and this is definitelly one of them, it expresses such a sorrow, that makes people feel connected in some way with Rainer Maria Rilke, i love it!!!
LIZ from United States
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Copyright © 2003-2008 Gunnar Bengtsson, Poetry Connection. All Rights Reserved.
Only a few lines into this poem, I couldn't help breaking into tears, not merely from Rilke's sublime evocation of unfulfilled longing, but out of recognition that he had captured my own predominant state in life. However, unlike some others commenting here (and not meaning to diminish your own genuine sentiments in any way), I have yet to meet or even identify the person whose absence is so conspicuous in my life, yet for whom I continue to live, waiting -- and it is precisely that sensation of an unidentified absence I found so moving in Rilke's poem.
I keep expecting you could suddenly appear to me anywhere, anytime, yet you appear nowhere, at no time, thus far; all I have to go on are the vague memories of glimpses of your red hair from my dreams, the feeling of deja vu I get when I see a woman with red hair, thinking she might possibly resemble you, wondering if she might turn out to be you, disappionted when she isn't.
It's like Charlie Brown and the Little Red-Haired Girl, but what if he had never seen her, couldn't even admire her from a distance, didn't know who he was pining for, just that she might probably have red hair, might possibly appear at any moment, might live in the same town and walk the same streets, shop the same stores, eat at the same restaurants... just not at the same time.
How ironic, also, to discover Rilke was (briefly) married to Klara, a name resembling the Clare/Clara I thought I remember having heard in a vision once...
Sometime, somewhere, you who never arrived... will arrive. It's what I live for. So where are you?
Tyson from United States