Rilke left a large body of uncollected work which includes some 500 poems.
The two pieces presented here, so powerfully expressive in character, give
voice to the profound sense of despair and loss Rilke felt as he witnessed the
Europe which he loved and knew so well divide against itself in all-out conflict.
The second poem concludes with an image of a tree breaking apart, what he calls
his "Tree of Joy." It is an image which gives one pause. It calls forth the presence
of something like a magnificent European stone pine, one so old and gnarled that
it would have already seemed ancient to a Mozart or Goethe, now being mindlessly
axed to the ground. Creation is always—evidently even for mother nature—hard,
slow work; Destruction, on the other hand—as we all know—can happen to us—
even an entire culture—in an instant.

How are we to deal with such suffering? The poet calls out with his whole being
to the mountain, wishing to understand, to know why. Let us listen;—

[Ausgesetzt auf den Bergen des Herzens] Ausgesetzt auf den Bergen des Herzens. Siehe, wie klein dort, siehe: die letzte Ortschaft der Worte, und höher, aber wie klein auch, noch ein letztes Gehöft von Gefühl. Erkennst du's? Ausgesetzt auf den Bergen des Herzens. Steingrund unter den Händen. Hier blüht wohl einiges auf; aus Stummem Absturz blüht ein unwissendes Kraut singend hervor. Aber der Wissende? Ach, der du wissen begann und schweigt nun, ausgesetzt auf den Bergen des Herzens. Da geht wohl, heilen Bewußtseins, manches umher, manches gesicherte Bergtier, wechselt und weilt. Und der große geborgene Vogel kreist um der Gipfel reine Verweigerung.—Aber ungeborgen, hier auf den Bergen des Herzens. . . . (Irschenhausen: September, 1914)

[Exposed on the mountains of the heart] Exposed on the mountains of the heart. See, how small there, see: the last hamlet of words, and higher, and yet so small, a last homestead of feeling. Do you recognize it? Exposed on the mountains of the heart. Rocky earth under the hands. But something will flower here; out of the mute abyss flowers an unknowing herb in song. But the knowing? Ah, that you who began to understand and are silent now, exposed on the mountains of the heart. Yet many an awareness still whole wanders there, many a self-confident mountain animal passes through and remains. And that great protected bird circles about the peaks of pure denial. But unprotected, here on the mountains of the heart.

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Klage Wem willst du klagen, Herz? Immer gemiedener ringt sich dein Weg durch die unbegreiflichen Menschen. Mehr noch vergebens vielleicht, da er die Richtung behält, Richtung zur Zukunft behält, zu der verlorenen. Früher. Klagtest? Was wars? Eine gefallene Beere des Jubels, unreife. Jetzt aber bricht mir mein Jubel-Baum, bricht mir im Sturme mein langsamer Jubel-Baum. Schönster in meiner unsichtbaren Landschaft, der du mich kenntlicher machtest Engeln, unsichtbaren. Rainer Maria Rilke (Paris 1914)

Complaint To whom shall you complain, heart? Ever more shunned your way wrestles through the impenetrable people. The more to no avail perherps, because it holds to the direction, holds to the direction of the future, to what has been lost. In the past. You complained? What was it? A fallen berry of Joy, unripe. But now my whole Tree of Joy is breaking, in the storm my slowly grown Tree of Joy is breaking. Most beautiful thing in my invisible landscape, you who made me more knowable to angels, invisible ones.    (tr. Cliff Crego)

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New English translations
from the German of 80
of Rainer Maria Rilke's
best poems, together
with 120 color prints
from the High Wallowas.
With introduction . . .

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| view / print Picture/Poem Poster: Exposed on the Mountains of the Heart (86 K) | or download as PDF |