THE LACE

Rainer Maria Rilke

translated from German by Franz Wright

1

Being human: term for a flickering possession,

existence of a happiness still undemonstrated:

is it inhuman, that a pair of eyes

turned into this small densely woven piece of lace?

Do you want them back?

You, long since vanished, and finally blind—

is all your human joy here inside this thing

where your huge feelings went, as between

stem and bark, miniaturized?

Through a tear in fate, a tiny interstice,

you absented your soul from its own time;

and it is so present here in this light

section of lace, it makes me smile at "usefulness."

 

2

And if someday all we have done

and all that has happened to us

seems so inferior and strange,

as though there'd been no point

in taking the trouble to outgrow our first pair of

              shoes

just to come to this— . . . Shouldn't this

strip of yellowed lace, this tightly meshed

flowery border of lace suffice

to keep us here? Look: this at least got done.

A life was ignored in the process, who knows.

A delight was there, was going to be sacrificed,

and finally at any cost

there would exist this thing, not easier than life

yet finished and so lovely, as though it weren't too

              soon

to smile and soar.