I’m back working on the Rilke website. More
or less full-time. Have pulled back into my
little office as a strong coldfront moves into
the Wallowas. Came upon a page I did more
than a decade ago, and had forgotten about
THE PANTHER: Six Ways of seeing a German Poem
I don’t even have a link to it that I know of.
Found it on Google . . . Has everything a
poem should have: vision, powerful rhythm
and sound and meaning flowing as one. And
energy, to my way of sensing things, a very
strong masculine — yang — energy.
Der Panther
Im Jardin des Plantes, Paris
Sein Blick ist von Vorübergehen der Stäbe
so müd geworden, daß er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.
Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte,
der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht,
ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte,
in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht.
Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille
sich lautlos auf—. Dann geht ein Bild hinein,
geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille—
und hört im Herzen auf zu sein.
The Panther
In the Jardin des Plantes, Paris
His gaze is from the passing of bars
so exhausted, that it doesn’t hold a thing anymore.
For him, it’s as if there were thousands of bars
and behind the thousands of bars no world.
The sure stride of lithe, powerful steps,
that around the smallest of circles turns,
is like a dance of pure energy about a center,
in which a great will stands numbed.
Only occasionally, without a sound, do the covers
of the eyes slide open—. An image rushes in,
goes through the tensed silence of the frame—
only to vanish, forever, in the heart.
(tr. Cliff Crego)
http://picture-poems.com/rilke/panther.html
Technique asks, “How did they do it?”
Meaning asks, “Why didn’t I see that before?”
Love says, “Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful.”