Rilke: Between Roots (Lockert Library of Poetry in Translation)

by Rika Lesser

The description for this book, Between Roots. Selected Poems Rendered from the German by Rika Lesser, will be forthcoming.

Genres: Poetry

80 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1986

About the author

Rika Lesser, twice the recipient of translation prizes from the Swedish Academy, is the author of four books of poems and seven books of poetry in translation.

Reviews

[M.W.P.M. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Only one who has already raised
the lyre, plucked its strings among
the shades as well, may surmising restore
the infinite praise.

Only one who has eaten of the poppy
with the dead, of their own
flower, will not lose even the most
imperceptible tone.

Even if the reflection in the pool
often swims before us, blurred:
Know the image.

Only in the Double Realm
will the voices become endless,
mild, liberal.

- The Sonnets to Orpheus: I, 9, pg. 7

* * *

Others hold the wine, others hold the oils
in the hollowed-out vaults their walls described.
I, as a smaller measure, and the slenderest, hollow
myself for another need, for the sake of plummeting tears.

Wine grows richer, and oil clearer in the jug.
What happens to tears? - They made me heavy,
blinder, and iridescent at the edge,
made me brittle finally, and empty.

- Lachrymatory, pg. 19

* * *

Where for this Inside is there
an Outside? Upon what wound
does one lay such a dressing?
What heavens are reflected there
in the inland lake of these open roses,
these heedless ones, look:
How loose they lie, tempting fate,
as if no trembling hand
could ever spill them.
They can scarcely contain
themselves; many let themselves
be filled to the brim and over
flow with inner space
into days that always
fuller and fuller close,
until the whole summer becomes
a room, a room in a dream.

- Inside the Rose, pg. 24

* * *

Night: into depth dissolved,
your face upon my face.
You, my astonished sight's greatest
preponderance.

Night: in my glance trembling,
yet in yourself so firm;
inexhaustible creation, enduring
over residual earth;

full of young nebulas
whose rims inflight
throw fire into the soundless
adventure of the void:

by your mere being, O Transcendence,
how small I seem - ;
yet, one with the dusky earth,
I dare, within you, to be.

- pg. 34

* * *

Come, you last thing I recognize,
unendurable pain in the body's web:
Just as I burned in spirit, see, I burn
in you; the wood has long resisted
joining its voice to your flame;
but now I feed you and burn in you.
My gentleness of earth, in your rage,
becomes a rage of Hell, not of here.
Planless, wholly pure, free of future,
I mounted pain's tortuous pyre,
sure of never buying a Becoming
with this heart, where all resource was mute.
Am I still unrecognizable; what burns?
I shall not drag memories inside.
O living, Living: To be outside.
And I in flames. No one who knows me.

(Renunciation. This is not what sickness once was
in childhood. Postponement. Pretext for
growing. Everything called, admonishing.
Do not confuse this with what amazed you long ago.)

- pg. 59

[Emma Dreher · Rating 2 out of 5]

Picked this up to read a bit more of Rilke after Mary Oliver quoted him in one of her poems. Some of his poems, like Arrival were short and gut wrenching:

"At once, two millennia before that new beings creation that we enjoy, when we begin to feel, suddenly: facing you, I am born in the eye."

However, his longer form of prose had a ton of Greek references, like Sonnets of Orpheus. Love the story of Orpheus of course, however, I got bored quickly, because it wasn't a new take on the same old story. It was more like a retelling.

Despite this, Rilke writes about roses and flowers a lot. He writes about nature as well, but again, nothing new really landed for me. It is poetry in its most classical form.

"O how like stars the packed feelings scatter, as if a bunch of wild flowers were untied."

[Roger DeBlanck · Rating 5 out of 5]

Among Rilke’s remarkable oeuvre, this collection is one of the few that carries my favorite poem of his, “Christ’s Journey to Hell.” In this slender volume, Rika Lesser provides solid translations. They capture the nuance and musical flow of Rilke’s style, and Lesser offers her own artistic flourishes to complement Rilke’s vision, depth, and range.

[Ben · Rating 5 out of 5]

Rika Lesser's translation of Rilke's poetry is the best I have come across, probably because she is a poet herself.

[Isaac Timm · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not a reflection on the poet, but of the reader. I'm not ready to access these poems.