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When we are gone, what remains of us in the world?
Rilke’s Second Elegy addresses infinite questions, not with answers but in a better way; with more questions.
Life as a vapor or mist is an ancient biblical image, but as always, Rilke breathes so much life and beauty into the description:
Does the infinite space we dissolve into, taste of us then?
But we, when moved by deep feeling, evaporate; we breathe ourselves out and away; from moment to moment our emotion grows fainter, like a perfume.
Though someone may tell us: “Yes, you’ve entered my bloodstream, the room, the whole springtime is filled with you …” — what does it matter?
He can’t contain us, we vanish inside him and around him.
And those who are beautiful, oh who can retain them?
Appearance ceaselessly rises in their face, and is gone.
Like dew from the morning grass, what is ours floats into the air, like steam from a dish of hot food.
O smile, where are you going?
O upturned glance: new warm receding wave on the sea of the heart … alas, but that is what we are.
Does the infinite space we dissolve into, taste of us then?
