The Book of Hours. Rilke
I am too alone in the world, and yet not alone enough
to consecrate every hour.
I am too small in the world, and not small enough
to be a thing in your eyes,
shadowed and shrewd.
I need my will, to go with it as it drives
its way to the deed;
and at quiet, hesitant times I need,
when something is draws near,
to be among those to whom it is known
or to be alone.
I must mirror you full height. I am not too old
or blind for my arms to keep their hold
on your image, swaying unwieldily.
And I must unfold.
I cannot allow myself to bend,
for in bending I shall have lied too in the end.
And my mind shall be true
before your face. I shall be to you
like a picture I studied
slowly, close to,
like a vessel in use,
like my mother´s face,
or a ship
bearing me, that withstood
the deadliest wind.
Ángel Marroquín 