Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Poem: Rilke

image source]

Buddha In Glory

Center of all centers, core of cores,
almond self-enclosed, and growing sweet--
all this universe, to the furthest stars
all beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit.

Now you feel how nothing clings to you;
your vast shell reaches into endless space,
and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow.
Illuminated in your infinite peace,

a billion stars go spinning through the night,
blazing high above your head.
But in you is the presence that
will be, when all the stars are dead.

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Anonymous said...

hey bill, where did you get this poem from? Is the title as you posted it?

Its fascinating, and thank you


william harryman said...

I found this on a website (so I wouldn't have to type it in), so I don't who the translator is. But this is a famous poem of Rilke's that will be in most anthologies that have a good selection of his work.

The title should be right.