Index of Titles and First Lines in English

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Abandoned on the mountains of the heart. Look, how small there

ABISHAG (II)

ABOUT FOUNTAINS

Again and again, even though we know love’s landscape

Again the woods smell sweet

A god can do it. But how, will you tell me, could

Ah, adrift in the air

Ah, could we escape counters and strikers of hours

Ah, not to be cut off

Ah, women, that you are here on earth, that you

ALCESTIS

All of that stood on her and was the world

All right: just one second more

All that we’ve gained the machine threatens, as long

Almost as on the last day when the dead will tear themselves

Already the city no longer drifts

Already the red barberries are ripening

Always I marvel at you, blessed ones, —at your demeanor

And again my deep life rushes louder

And almost a girl it was and came forth

And here is Death, a bluish distillate

And night and distant travel; for the train

And you wait, you wait for that one thing

ANGELS, THE

ANTISTROPHES

APPREHENSION

ARCHAIC TORSO OF APOLLO

Are not stars almost in your vicinity

ASHANTI, THE

As if escaping the creatures of a dream

As if he listened. Stillness: something distant …

As in the hand a sulfur match flares white

As long as you catch self-thrown things

As once the winged energy of delight

As one stirs spices in a soporific

Assault me, music, with rhythmic fury!

As sometimes between still leafless branches

A tree arose. O pure transcendence!

AUTUMN

AUTUMN DAY

Avoided by the early autumn morning

Be in advance of all parting, as if it were

BEETLE STONE, THE

BEFORE SUMMER RAIN

Behold: (for no tree shall distract you)

Behold the flowers, those true to the earthly

Between the stars, such distances; and yet how much vaster

BIRTH OF VENUS

BLACK CAT

BLUE HYDRANGEA

BOWL OF ROSES, THE

BOY, THE

Breathing, you invisible poem!

Brother body is poor …: then we’ll have to be rich for him

BUDDHA

BUDDHA

BUDDHA IN GLORY

But tell me, who are they, these wanderers

But what, Master, might I dedicate to you

But what prevents us from believing

But you, divine one, intoning to the very end

But you now, O stolen one, whom I knew

Call me to that one among your hours

CAPITAL, THE

CAROUSEL, THE

Center of all centers, core of cores

CHILDHOOD

CHRIST’S DESCENT INTO HELL

Come, you last thing, which I acknowledge

CORPSE-WASHING

COURTESAN, THE

DEATH

DEATH EXPERIENCED

DEATH OF MOSES, THE

Deepest down: the age-old

Does it really exist, Time the Destroyer?

DONOR, THE

Don’t boast, you men of justice, that the rack is obsolescent

Do you still remember: falling stars

Dream in the eyes. The brow as if in touch

DUINO ELEGIES

    THE FIRST ELEGY

    THE SECOND ELEGY

    THE THIRD ELEGY

    THE FOURTH ELEGY

    THE FIFTH ELEGY

    THE SIXTH ELEGY

    THE SEVENTH ELEGY

    THE EIGHTH ELEGY

    THE NINTH ELEGY

    THE TENTH ELEGY

EARLY APOLLO

EARLY SPRING

ELEGY

Enchanted one: how shall the harmony

ENTRANCE

Erect no monument. Allow the rose

Even a ghost is like a place

Even from afar the awestruck foreign

EVENING

EVENING IN SKÅNE

Every Angel is terrifying. And yet, alas

Exiting the cluttered city, which would rather

FADED

Finally suffered out, his being exited the terrible

First a childhood, boundless and without

FLAMINGOS, THE

Flower-muscle, slowly pulling open

FOREIGN FAMILY

Forget, forget, and let us live now

FOR HANS CAROSSA

FRAGMENTS FROM LOST DAYS

FROM AN APRIL

FROM CHILDHOOD

From this cloud—look: that so wildly covers

FULL POWER

FUNERAL MONUMENT OF A YOUNG GIRL

GAZELLE, THE

God or goddess of the sleep of cats

God talks to each of us as he creates us

God won’t be lived like some light morning

GOING BLIND

GONG (I)

GONG (II)

GREAT NIGHT, THE

GROUP, THE

GROWNUP, THE

Hail to the spririt that can connect us

HAND, THE

Hand’s secret self. Sole, that has ceased to walk

Harshness vanished. Suddenly caring

He had long prevailed through gazing

His gaze has from the passing of the bars

How at the very last, in an instant

How I have felt the shape that parting takes

How it stands out against the darkenings

How shall I keep my soul

How the cry of a bird can move us …

How they’re all around us, these gentlemen

HUMAN BEINGS AT NIGHT

I am nobody and I’ll be nobody

I am the lute. Should you wish to describe

I am, you anxious one. Don’t you hear me

I’d like to sing someone to sleep

IDOL

If I’d grown up in a different land

I go always from door to door

I have many brothers who wear light cassocks

I held myself too open, I forgot

I, knower: possesing the secrets

I live at the very edge of the century

I live my life in widening circles

IMAGINARY CAREER

I’m blind, you out there: that’s a curse

I’m like a flag surrounded by distances

I’m like one who’s traveled foreign oceans

In all these things toward which I feel

In my hair the sun of Venice will

In the deep nights I dig for you, you treasure

IN THE DRAWING ROOM

In the faded forest is a birdcall

In the morning after that night which fearfully

In there: the lazy pacing of their paws

In this Interior, which curves and arches

I read it in your word, learn it from the story

Is he native to this realm? No

It’s as if I’m pushing through massive mountains

It’s one thing to sing the loved one; another, alas

I want to be like one of those

It wasn’t in me. It went out and in

JUDITH’S RETURN

Just as the king out on a hunt picks up

Just as the master’s true stroke is sometimes

LACHRYMATORY

LAMENT

LANDSCAPE

LAST EVENING

LATE AUTUMN IN VENICE

LEDA

Life was good to me in the beginning

Lightly, as after her death

… Like birds that get used to walking

Like someone lying down he stands erect

Like someone swiftly making a bouquet

Listen: already you can hear the first hoes

Look, I’m one of those whom everything has abandoned

Looking up from my book, from the close countable lines

Lord: it is time. Your summer was superb

Losing is also ours; and even forgetting

LOVE SONG

LULLABY

LUTE, THE

Many calmly weighed rules entered Death’s canon

Master, do you hear the New

MEMORY

Mirrors: no one who’s tried to solve you

MOONLIT NIGHT

MORGUE

Music: breathing of statues. Maybe

My life is not this steep hour

My room and this vastness

My soul may be straight and good

NEIGHBOR, THE

NIGHT DRIVE

Nights are not made for the masses

Night, silent night, into which are woven

No longer, voice. No longer let wooing shape your cry

No: my heart shall be a tower

None of them, only the dark, fallen angel

Not till that day when flight

No vision of lush, far-off countries

Now it is time that gods stepped out

Now the hour bends down and touches me

Now the stag becomes part of the earth. Lifts and holds

Now we wake with our memory

O come and go. You, still almost a child

O dancer: your steps translating

Off in the garden blooms the evil sleep

O fig tree, how long I’ve pondered you—

O fountain mouth, you giving one, you lips

O how far away and long gone

O in spite of Fate: the magnificent overflows

O Lord, give us each our own death. Grant us

Once I stared at you, stood at the window begun yesterday

Once I took your face into

Once long ago somewhere you freed him

One day, at the end of the nightmare of knowing

ONE OF THE OLD ONES

Only he who has also raised

Only in the realm of Praise may Lament

ON THE EDGE OF NIGHT

OPIUM POPPY

ORPHEUS. EURYDICE. HERMES

O the curves of my longing through the cosmos

O the losses into the All, Marina, the falling stars!

Others carry the wine, others carry the oil

O this delight, ever new, born of loosened clay

O this is the animal that does not exist

O trees of life, how long till winter?

O you few, playmates of a former childhood

O you many unassaulted cities

O you tender ones, step now and then

PALM OF THE HAND

PANTHER, THE

PARROT PARK

PARTING

Path through the garden, deep as a long drink

PIANO PRACTICE

POET, THE

PONT DU CARROUSEL

PORTRAIT OF MY FATHER AS A YOUNG MAN

Praising, that’s it! One appointed to praise

PRAYER

PRESENTIMENT

PROGRESS

Put my eyes out: I can see you

QUAI DU ROSAIRE

RAISING OF LAZARUS, THE

Ripe apple, blackberry and banana

ROMAN CAMPAGNA

ROMAN FOUNTAIN

ROMAN SARCOPHAGI

Rose, enthroned there, for the ancients

ROSE INTERIOR, THE

Rose, O pure contradiction, delight

ROSE WINDOW, THE

SAINT SEBASTIAN

SAN MARCO

Scan the sky. Is no constellation named “Horseman”?

School’s long anxiety and time slips by

See the little titmouse

Seldom does a shadow of damp decay

SELF-PORTRAIT FROM THE YEAR 1906

Shall we renounce our age-old friendship

She sat just like the others having tea

Silent friend of the many distances

Sing the gardens, my heart, those you never knew; gardens

SITE OF THE FIRE, THE

Sleepers, the damp on my feet is black still, indistinct. Dew, they say. / Ah

Slowly the evening puts on the clothes

SNAKE-CHARMING

SOLITARY, THE

SOLITARY, THE

SOLITUDE

Solitude is like a rain

Someday if I lose you

Sometimes at evening (do you know how it feels?)

Somewhere gold dwells in an indulgent bank

Somewhere the flower of farewell blooms and ceaselessly

Sound, no longer measurable

SPANISH DANCER

SPANISH TRILOGY, THE

SPIRIT ARIEL, THE

Spring has come again. The earth

Straining so hard against the strength of the night

Strange violin, do you follow me?

Such Fragonard-like reflections

Suddenly from all the green in the park

Suddenly I know so much about fountains

Suddenly she steps, sheathed in the wind

SUNDIAL, THE

SWAN, THE

Tears, tears that break out of me

That time, when drawn by the sleek trotters

That was the commission to the painter’s guild

The birdcalls start their praise

The blind man standing on the bridge

The darkening was like treasures in the room

The king sat thinking through the empty day

The leaves are falling, falling as from far away

Then suddenly the messenger was with them

The old long-noble family’s

The park is high. And as out of a house

The rich and the lucky can afford to be silent

These leaves are like the last green

The streets move forward with a gentle gait

The summer drones. The afternoon drags on

The transformed speaks only to relinquishers. All

The way that bright planet, the moon, exalted, full of purpose

The way the dust—which begins somehow

They all have tired mouths

They don’t watch me. They let me go

They had gotten used to him. But when

They lie here ready, as if still waiting

They lie in their long hair, with brown faces

This heaviness, toiling on as if in bonds

This was the souls’ strange mine

Though the world change swiftly

To have come through it: to have joyfully

[TO LOU ANDREAS-SALOMÉ]

TOMBS OF THE HETAERAE

TO MUSIC

Torn open by us again and again

TO SAY BEFORE GOING TO SLEEP

TURNING

Two basins, one rising from the other

Under blossoming Turkish lindens, at the grass’s edge

Undeterrable, I’ll complete this course

Unknown before the heavens of my life

Unsteady scales of life

VENETIAN MORNING

VOICES, THE

    TITLE LEAF

    THE BEGGAR’S SONG

    THE BLIND MAN’S SONG

    THE DRUNKARD’S SONG

    THE SUICIDE’S SONG

    THE WIDOW’S SONG

    THE IDIOT’S SONG

    THE ORPHAN GIRL’S SONG

    THE DWARF’S SONG

    THE LEPER’S SONG

Wait…, this taste … Already it’s escaping

We don’t know what we spend

We drive and are driven

We, in the grappling nights

We keep remembering. It’s as though

We know nothing of this going hence

We never knew his head and all the light

We puzzle over flower, vine-leaf, fruit

We’re only mouth. Who sings the distant heart

What birds dive through is not the intimate space

What will you do, God, when I die?

When the charmer, swaying in the market

When the god in his great need entered it

… When will, when will, when will it be enough

Where, in what ever-blissfully watered gardens, on what

Where is there an outside

Whoever you are: in the evening step

Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the Angels’

Why, when this span of life might be spent

WILD ROSEBUSH

Will transformation. O be ravenous for the fire

Windows pampered like princes behold always

With a canopy and its shade it turns

With all its eyes the animal world

WOMAN AT A BALCONY

WOMAN AT HER MIRROR

WOMAN’S FATE, A

WORDS OF THE LORD TO JOHN ON PATMOS, THE

World was in the face of the beloved—

Yes, it was necessary for the rabble

You don’t know nights of love? No

You flowers, akin, finally, to the arranging hands

You mustn’t worry, God. They say mine

You must suffer long, not knowing what

You, my friend, are alone, because …

You, neighbor God, if sometimes in the long night

You’re withdrawing from me, hour

Your first word was: Light:

You, the loved one lost

You’ve seen caged anger flare, seen two boys

You, who have never left my feelings