Author of quotes: Rainer Maria Rilke

their clear purity, the clarity of the constellations knowing?

Let it happen to you
The beauty and the horror
Keep going
Feelings do not end there.

Your hour, September, and fly to wither.
Check in on a sundial shadow
On the field, all the winds allow.
Let it be a juice Apple full,
Two more southern days to find you can
The fruits to Mature and lay
The last sugar in the wines.
Someone without housing not building house now.
Whoever is alone without a friend remains,
Not sleep and over the lengthy letter beats
And wanders in the reflection on the pond
In the Park, where, glowing, leaf sweeps.

Weeks summer quiet
in the trees blood
who is doing the rampage of the elements,
who is to be says.
And unless you know life the power
picking berries in the bunch?
Taste again day and night -
you're in the world again guest.

You ripped my moment unknown.
Hurt me with the wing.
What do I do with a song,
this night and this day?

I'm nothing and won't be a single day.
I'm small, and all around a big fuss;
and more not beautiful.
Dads, moms,
have pity on me.
However, I'm not worrying:
the harvest has been removed.
Time did not come to me and do not come
not needed anywhere an orphan.

Happy rich well of silence,
what's to ponder over their fate.
Destitute but asks for attention
he says: I'm blind,
or: I will go blind soon
or: grief haunts me,
or: when my child is sick
or: I was seduced from the path...
A lot of grief and out of words.
People other things more interesting.
Attract the attention has the song.

Who would not leave, but in the evening go
find one room shelter crowded;
at the distance spaces of the house look
who would not leave.

And city rush arbitrarily
they have everything and all their rights:
they are animals xepout as kindling,
they peoples are cut for firewood.

The words are simple, sister Sluts,
I love their everyday outfit.
I'll give them bright colors, and poor
me a timid smile bestow.
Their essence, which they did not dare
to show us, blooms without shackles
those that never sing,
shivering come into operation my poems.

Where would rose poolee
for the bouquet I find?
The girl that all the sweeter,
bright lime Avenue
I would like to meet.

Where are you, happiness to the eyes of a pigeon?
Can't find it, don't get down.
Bright water stands in the hollows,
night blood splashed into a shadow of Acacias.
Girls laughing pass,
voices in the grove sounded...
Again the stars are with them
dreams, to the edge of complete sadness.

We had fun once
wander along the banks of the river,
where were melting in the sunset
double shadow moths.

Jubilant birds, fluttering light,
and loudly rang gave;
in that Park where we danced,
all dipped in white.