{"id":1580349,"date":"2005-07-11T15:13:00","date_gmt":"2005-07-11T15:13:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/2005\/07\/11\/Rainer-Maria-Rilke\/"},"modified":"2007-11-26T00:06:21","modified_gmt":"2007-11-26T00:06:21","slug":"Rainer-Maria-Rilke","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/?p=1580349","title":{"rendered":"Rainer Maria Rilke"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class='sustuff'>Stumbleupon <a href='http:\/\/bunty.stumbleupon.com\/review\/1580349\/'>Review<\/a> of :<br \/>\n\t<a href='http:\/\/www.geocities.com\/SoHo\/Cafe\/1324\/rilke.htm'>http:\/\/www.geocities.com\/SoHo\/Cafe\/1324\/rilke.htm<\/a><a href='http:\/\/www.stumbleupon.com\/url\/www.geocities.com\/SoHo\/Cafe\/1324\/rilke.htm'><img src='http:\/\/bunty.tv\/images\/smallstumble.png'><\/a>\n<\/div>\n<p>Rainer Maria Rilke, 1875-&#8230;.<\/p>\n<p>Have patience with everything that remain unsolved in your<br \/>\nheart. Try to love the questions themselves, like<br \/>\nlocked rooms and like books written in a foreign language.<br \/>\nDo not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given<br \/>\nto you because you could not live them. It is a question<br \/>\nof experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question.<br \/>\nPerhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it,<br \/>\nfind yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.<\/p>\n<p>++<\/p>\n<p>For one human being to love another: that is perhaps<br \/>\nthe most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the<br \/>\nlast test and proof, the work for which all other work<br \/>\nis but preparation.<\/p>\n<p>++<\/p>\n<p>\nAh, poems amount to so little when you write them too early<br \/>\nin your life. You ought to wait and gather sense and<br \/>\nsweetness for a whole lifetime, and a long one if possible,<br \/>\nand then, at the very end, you might perhaps be able to<br \/>\nwrite ten good lines, For poems are not,as people think,<br \/>\nsimply emotions (one has emotions early enough)they are<br \/>\nexperiences. For the sake of a single poem, you must see<br \/>\nmany cities, many people and Things, you must understand<br \/>\nanimals, must feel how birds fly,and know the gesture which<br \/>\nsmall flowers make when they open in the morning.<br \/>\nYou must be able to think back to streets in unknown<br \/>\nneighborhoods, to unexpected encounters, and to partings<br \/>\nyou had long seen coming; to days of childhood whose<br \/>\nmystery is still unexplained, to parents whom you had to<br \/>\nhurt when they brought in a joy and you didn&#8217;t pick it up<br \/>\n(it was a joy meant for somebody else-);<br \/>\nto childhood illnesses that began so strangely with so many<br \/>\nprofound and difficult transformations, to days in quiet<br \/>\nrestrained rooms and to mornings by the sea, to the sea<br \/>\nitself, to seas, to nights of travel that rushedalong high<br \/>\noverhead and went flying with allthe stars,<br \/>\n&#8211; and it is still not enough to be able to think of all that.<br \/>\nYou must have memories of many nights of love, each one<br \/>\ndifferent from all the others, memories of women screaming<br \/>\nin labor, and of light, pale, sleeping girls who have just<br \/>\ngiven birth and are closing again. But you must also have<br \/>\nbeen beside the dying, must have sat beside the dead in the<br \/>\nroom with the open windows and the scattered noises.<br \/>\nAnd it is not yet enough to have memories. You must be able<br \/>\nto forget them when they are many, and you must have the<br \/>\nimmense patience to wait until they return. For the memories<br \/>\nthemselves are not important. Only when they have changed<br \/>\ninto our very blood, into glance and gesture, and are<br \/>\nnameless, no longer to be distinguished from ourselves-<br \/>\nonly then can it happen that in some very rare hour the<br \/>\nfirst word of a poem arises in their midst and goes forth<br \/>\nfrom them.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Stumbleupon Review of : http:\/\/www.geocities.com\/SoHo\/Cafe\/1324\/rilke.htm Rainer Maria Rilke, 1875-&#8230;. Have patience with everything that remain unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look &hellip; <a href=\"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/?p=1580349\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":""},"categories":[1488],"tags":[305],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1580349"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1580349"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1580349\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1580349"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1580349"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1580349"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}