*two different – fascinatingly so, I thought – translations of a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke…
You see, I want a lot.
Maybe I want it all:
the darkness of each endless fall,
the shimmering light of each ascent.
So many are alive who don’t seem to care
Casual, easy, they move in the world
as though untouched.
But you take pleasure in the faces
of those who know they thirst.
You cherish those
who grip you for survival.
You are not dead yet, it’s not too late
to open your depths by plunging into them
and drink in the life
that reveals itself quietly there.
You see, I want a lot.
Perhaps I want everything
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall
and the shivering blaze of every step up.
So many live on and want nothing
And are raised to the rank of prince
By the slippery ease of their light judgments
But what you love to see are faces
that do work and feel thirst.
You love most of all those who need you
as they need a crowbar or a hoe.
You have not grown old, and it is not too late
To dive into your increasing depths
where life calmly gives out its own secret.
*C’mon, isn’t that a tad wacky? I love both versions, and wonder what the poet himself may have thought? My mother had a book of Rilke’s poems and I was sure the author was a woman, because ‘Maria‘, which is another form of translation, our decisions about what names belong to whom and where. In life, Rilke’s mother outlived him, and, as a small child, she mourned the loss of an infant daughter by dressing him – her surviving child – in female clothing. More on this complicated man may be found here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainer_Maria_Rilke