What Will You Do?
Rilke questions God on what His actions will be when he dies. He feels himself to be God's jar, and wonders what will happen differently if he is cracked. He also marks himself as God's well-spring, pondering what will be the outcome if it runs dry. He continues to call himself God's craft and vesture, before pausing and remarking that God will lose his purport if he dies.
Rilke argues that when he dies, God's house will lose the sweet words within. He mentions that god's feet will long for him, the sandals they tiredly desire to be wearing. He tells God that His cloak will drop from His shoulders, which hurt, and that His sight, one made happy by regarding Rilke's face, will be confused by such a strange loss. When the sun has gone down, Rilke thinks that God's eyes will rest only on foreign stones unknown.
Rilke ends the poem by repeating his question to God, seeking an answer to what will become of him after death. He admits at this point that he is scared.
The Beggars (trans. by Michael Hoffman)
Rilke addresses an unknown person, noting that they were unaware what was in a specific pile. A stranger only visiting discovers beggars inside, who sell even the very content of their hands. They allow the foreign visitor to look in their dirty mouths and he examines the mange that eats their flesh. These beggar's only see a warped version of the foreigner. They delight int heir new possession and the spew when he utters a word.
Day in Autumn (trans. by Mary Kinzie)
Rilke addresses the Lord, relaying that when the summer is finished, one must allow the shadows from the sun to lengthen upon sundials and the harsher winds to blow in the fields. The last produce of fruit is to be caressed and cared for, so it becomes round and healthy. Two more days of gentle heat and light are to be cast upon it, to turn it golden with ripeness. With grapes, this will bring sweetness to wine.
Those who are homeless at this point in time will not construct somewhere to stay, according to Rilke, and those who live by themselves will live on, arising to read a bit, write letters that are long in length, and to wander the streets in the city, while the leaves of wild trees begin to loosen.
Growing Blind (trans. by Margarete Münsterberg)
A woman sits sipping her tea, however there is something different about the way she raises her cup. She smiles, but her smile evokes pity. When everyone gets up, talking and laughing, and begin to walk gently around the rooms, Rilke sees her following behind at a slower pace.
She is hindered, as if she must try hard to be calm, like a singer before a performance. The light is cast upon her eyes, which appear happy and clear. She continues to follow, slowly, gingerly and with hesitation, as if anticipating a bridge or obstacle of height. It seems as though, once passed, she will be able to fly instead of walk.
