In light of Sherry's post and mine on Tony Snow's commentary (and the bad day I had yesterday and the fact that a friend's father is dying), I wanted to post this favorite poem of mine by Rainer Maria Rilke. The translation is adapted (by me) from those of M. D. Herter Norton and Bertram Kottmann; below that is the original.
(Though it's a little too early to be thinking of autumn, the poem's message transcends season...)
Autumn
The leaves are falling, falling as if from far off,
as if distant gardens withered in the skies;
they fall with denying gestures.
And in the night the heavy earth falls
from all the stars into aloneness.
We are all falling. This hand also falls.
And look at the others: it is in them all.
And yet there is One, who holds this falling
endlessly gently in His hands.
Herbst
Die Blätter fallen, fallen wie von weit,
als welkten in den Himmeln ferne Gärten;
sie fallen mit verneinender Gebärde.
Und in den Nächten fällt die schwere Erde
aus allen Sternen in die Einsamkeit.
Wir alle fallen. Diese Hand da fällt.
Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen.
Und doch ist Einer, welcher dieses Fallen
unendlich sanft in seinen Händen hält.
