Though the world keeps changing its form <br />as fast as a cloud, still <br />what is accomplished falls home <br />to the Primeval. <br /> <br />Over the change and the passing, <br />larger and freer, <br />soars your eternal song, <br />god with the lyre. <br /> <br />Never has grief been possesed, <br />never has love been learned, <br />and what removes us in death <br /> <br />is not revealed. <br />Only the song through the land <br />hallows and heals. <br /> <br /> <br />Translated by Stephen Mitchell<br /><br />Rainer Maria Rilke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sonnets-to-orpheus-xix/
