Suddenly, from all the green around you, <br />something-you don't know what-has disappeared; <br />you feel it creeping closer to the window, <br />in total silence. From the nearby wood <br /> <br />you hear the urgent whistling of a plover, <br />reminding you of someone's Saint Jerome: <br />so much solitude and passion come <br />from that one voice, whose fierce request the downpour <br /> <br />will grant. The walls, with their ancient portraits, glide <br />away from us, cautiously, as though <br />they weren't supposed to hear what we are saying. <br /> <br />And reflected on the faded tapestries now; <br />the chill, uncertain sunlight of those long <br />childhood hours when you were so afraid.<br /><br />Rainer Maria Rilke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/before-summer-rain/
