Rilke, again. Also, a list of uncertainties.
Written @ 9:48 p.m. on 2012-02-18
translated by Annemarie S. Kidder
I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
enough
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.
I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
I want my conscience to be
true before you;
want to describe myself like a picture I observed
for a long time, one close up,
like a new word I learned and embraced,
like the everday jug,
like my mother's face,
like a ship that carried me along
through the deadliest storm.
---
i think i want rainer for my birthday.
it's possible i made a new friend. i made him out of heartache and silly questions, as i do.
anyway, saxophonists aren't so bad. they might even be nice.
which makes me think i might be brave enough to stop expecting the worst.
i'm traveling in september. i may or may not be willingly kidnapped (yes, there is such a thing).
meanwhile i'm bracing myself for a social event. in a small space. full of hipsters...who all claim to hate hipsters. what's a hipster?
i really, really don't want to be even a little bit sober for this.
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