INTERLUDE XI Rilke Takes a Turn

We cannot fathom his mysterious head

Through the veiled eyes no flickering ray is sent;

But from his torso gleaming light is shed

As from a candelabrum; inward bent

His glance there glows and lingers. Otherwise

The round breast would not bind you with its grace,

Nor could the soft-curved circle of the thighs

Steal the arc whence issues a new race.

Nor could this stark and stunted stone display

Vibrance beneath the shoulders heavy bar,

Nor shine like fur upon a beast of prey,

Nor break forth from its lines like a great star—

There is no spot that does not bind you fast

And transport you back. You should have taken

a left turn at Albuquerque.

Hey, Doc, you’ve got a slight problem.

Just between the two of us, it’s duck-hunting season.

Have you ever had the feeling you were being watched?

Like the eyes of strange things are upon you?

Look, out there in the audience. My,

I bet you monsters lead interesting lives.

I said to my girlfriend just the other day—Gee,

I’ll bet monsters are interesting,

I said. The places you must go and the places

you must see, my stars! And I’ll bet

you meet a lot of interesting people, too. I’m always

interested in meeting interesting people. You should have taken

a left turn at Albuquerque.