From The Seventh Elegy by Rainer Maria Rilke:
No more wooing! Voice, you’ve outgrown wooing; it won’t/ be/
the reason for your cry anymore, even if you cried clear as
a bird when the soaring season lifts him, almost forgetting
he’s an anxious creature, and not just a single heart
she’s tossing toward brightness, into the intimate blue.
Just like him, you’d be courting some still invisible,
still silent lover, a mate whose reply was slowly waking
and warming itself while she listened–the glowing
reflection of your own fired feeling.
………
Don’t think I’m wooing you!
And, Angel, even if I were, you wouldn’t come.
Because my call is always full of “Get away!”….
~~~~
(Oh but I am and who knows.)
