Today I'm in a window mood
where living seems only to look,
and every taste surprises me
as filling and as knowing as a book.
( Rilke, The Windows XII, my translation/version from the French, as I can't quite get on with Poulin's and there don't seem to be many others. I've got a bloody nerve. RMR wrote some 400 poems in French near the end of his life, after the Duino Elegies and the Sonnets to Orpheus.)
- Photos - Saffron Walden and Cambridge.