Rainer Maria Rilke (1875–1926)

This is a short book that takes time to read. Rilke’s lyrical prose is to be read like poetry. Rilke’s meaning is not always immediately clear, but careful rereading reveals a deep exploration of death, life, loss, and grief. Rilke urges us in times of loss to look directly at death so we may experience the intensity of our feelings and experience the wholeness of existence. This book can provide comfort to those grieving the loss of a loved one. This slim volume provides no saccharine show more platitudes. Instead, Rilke helps us see the life-affirming aspects of death. show less

Twelve years on and it will have been a ten
by ten span of time since you left, Rilke.
Left on high, left to below both word and
hope, hope, most of all hope. Your heart you gave,
and for that we love.

I'd like to rhyme in metered line along
the likes of you, but too long ago your
poetry graced my eyes. What lies left's a
feeling fit for tears and joy alone, and
somber light it is.

Your maudlin days do not astonish, for
many a kindred of mine has suffered
the same, and yet, goes on. I draw from show more each
going for my own, and yours I say is
of exquisite touch.

Man to man you wrote back then, both letter
and the wider world of word, and as with
most I gritted firm for any and all
male strickenings of the female fact, of
grim necessity.

But 'lo! You knew, and where you didn't, you
hoped, in a beauty of mournful bright. Of
early on you penned this plighted dream, and
did more in a quickening page than most
in their own lifetime.

And more, and more, and more to come. Childhood
days, unhappy days, and yet every bloom
you would cherish and hold dear. Sin was not
a word allowed you said; what mattered was
life, and lived to love.

In solitude and suspension flush, you
counseled attention paid to the soul of
self. Every part and every shuddering truth,
both internal and the real. Often faint,
often not enough.

Fail better. The words came after you, and
with less heart, but you would most agree. There's
lovely things in life, you said, you wrote, you
sculpted deep in tears of crystalline. One
weeps in the knowing.

But one would smile and cheer and cradle close
what you've left us dear. You felt, and saw fit
to refract as close to thought through form. To
all, to us, to me. I cannot return,
save for scripting here.

Rainer Maria Rilke, you wrote; I
felt my heart would burst. show less

Rilke really said: stop asking for answers and go have an existential crisis about it instead. Surprisingly comforting about it, though.

A slim book of letters that somehow manages to feel both intensely personal and universally applicable. Equal parts “this changed my brain chemistry” and “sir, please elaborate,” Letters to a Young Poet is essentially one long, thoughtful “it’s not that deep—but also it absolutely is” about art, solitude, and becoming yourself. Some passages show more hit like quiet revelations; others feel like being gently told to go sit with your feelings. Still holds up. show less

This compilation of selections from Rilke's poetry and prose has been an excellent morning or evening treat for the past 365 days - at times serene and calming, and at others challenging and vibrant. At its best, his writing captures the ineffable and profound in human living in a way that is direct and metaphoric. His themes - love, solitude, death, suffering, silence, growth - are generally spiritual, natural, universal and transformative. And this book is an excellent way to discover the show more breadth of his writing for the newcomer, as well as providing a steady reminder of his artistry and insight for anyone who is already familiar with him. show less