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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=480305" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Dedication to M.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Swing of the heart. O firmly hung, fastened on what<br>invisible branch. Who, who gave you the push,<br>that you swung with me into the leaves?<br>How near I was to the exquisite fruits. But not-staying<br>is the essence of this motion. Only the nearness, only<br>toward the forever-too-high, all at once the possible<br>nearness. Vicinities, then<br>from an irresistibly swung-up-to place<br>-already, once again, lost-the new sight, the outlook.<br>And now: the commanded return<br>back and across and into equilbrium's arms.<br>Below, in between, hesitation, the pull of earth, the passage<br>through the turning-point of the heavy-, past it: and the<br>catapult stretches,<br>weighted with the heart's curiosity,<br>to the other side, opposite, upward.<br>Again how different, how new! How they envy each other<br>at the ends of the rope, these opposite halves of pleasure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or, shall I dare it: these quarters?-And include, since it<br>witholds itself,<br>that other half-circle, the one whose impetus pushes the<br>swing?<br>I'm not just imagining it, as the mirror of my here-and-now<br>arc. Guess nothing. It will be<br>newer someday. But from endpoint to endpoint<br>of the arc that I have most dared, I already fully possess it:<br>overflowings from me plunge over to it and fill it,<br>stretch it apart, almost. And my own parting,<br>when the force that pushes me someday<br>stops, makes it all the more near.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rainer+Maria+Rilke">Rainer Maria Rilke</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=480305" data-title="Dedication to M. de Rainer Maria Rilke" data-description="Swing of the heart. O firmly hung, fastened on what
invisible branch. Who, who gave you the push,
that you swung with me into the leaves?
How near I was to the exquisite fruits. But not-staying
is the essence of this motion. Only the nearness, onl..."></div>
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