A god can do it. But tell me, how can a man pass through the narrow lyre to follow him? His mind's divided. At the place where two heart-ways cross is no Temple to Apollo. Singing – as you teach it – is not desire, not wooing something in the end you secure. Singing is Being. For a god, this is easy. But when will we be? And when will he revolve the earth and the stars towards us? Young man, it is not like love – your mouth wrenched wide open even by that voice – learn to forget what you once sang. It will end. In true singing there is a different breath. A breath of nothing. A gust in god. A wind.
Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Martyn Crucefix
This is Sonnet I:3 of the Sonnets to Orpheus by Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Martyn Crucefix (Enitharmon, London 2012). Reprinted by kind permission of the Publisher. The book is reviewed by Kathleen McPhilemy on page 26.