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A review by raulbime
Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke
5.0
Ever since I lost my faith years ago, I’ve been on a path to try and reconstruct the kind of framework or guide I once had. The form of faith I’d been raised in and discarded was intolerant and harmful, to self and others, and I’ve been trying to find the kind of sustenance I could have had through different practices–mostly mindfulness and meditation, and also through poetry. Not that fiction or the other forms of prose don’t have illuminative qualities that could help a person find solace, meaning, and appreciation for life and, even, death. But there’s a pristine nature to poetry, that even in its elusiveness and moments of not understanding, that feels–despite cringing at the word at times–spiritual. And Rilke’s poetry, as I’ve recently found out, could be described as all this.
Of the destructive nature of beauty:
…For beauty is
nothing
But the beginning of terror, which we can
just barely endure,
and we stand in awe of it as it coolly
disdains
to destroy us. Every angel is terrifying.
Of destiny:
From the eighth elegy
That’s what destiny is: being opposite
and nothing else but that and always
opposite.
This stunning part on the manner in which human beings perceive the world and life:
And we: Spectators, always, everywhere,
looking at, never out of, everything!
It overfills us. We arrange it. It falls apart.
We rearrange it, and fall apart ourselves.
Who has turned us around like this, so that
always, no matter what we do, we’re in the
stance
of someone just departing? As he,
on the last hill that shows him all his valley
one last time, turns, stops, lingers—,
we live our lives, forever taking leave.
Of the demanding nature of life and its transience:
But because life compels us, and
because everything here
seems to need us, all this fleetingness
that strangely entreats us. Us, the most
fleeting…
Wisdom brims throughout this book with its captivating imagery and the incredible story-telling (that bit of the Land of Pain and Laments in the end), makes for an unforgettable reading experience.
Of the destructive nature of beauty:
…For beauty is
nothing
But the beginning of terror, which we can
just barely endure,
and we stand in awe of it as it coolly
disdains
to destroy us. Every angel is terrifying.
Of destiny:
From the eighth elegy
That’s what destiny is: being opposite
and nothing else but that and always
opposite.
This stunning part on the manner in which human beings perceive the world and life:
And we: Spectators, always, everywhere,
looking at, never out of, everything!
It overfills us. We arrange it. It falls apart.
We rearrange it, and fall apart ourselves.
Who has turned us around like this, so that
always, no matter what we do, we’re in the
stance
of someone just departing? As he,
on the last hill that shows him all his valley
one last time, turns, stops, lingers—,
we live our lives, forever taking leave.
Of the demanding nature of life and its transience:
But because life compels us, and
because everything here
seems to need us, all this fleetingness
that strangely entreats us. Us, the most
fleeting…
Wisdom brims throughout this book with its captivating imagery and the incredible story-telling (that bit of the Land of Pain and Laments in the end), makes for an unforgettable reading experience.