And night and distant rumbling; now the army's <br />carrier-train was moving out, to war. <br />He looked up from the harpsichord, and as <br />he went on playing, he looked across at her <br /> <br />almost as one might gaze into a mirror: <br />so deeply was her every feature filled <br />with his young features, which bore his pain and were <br />more beautiful and seductive with each sound. <br /> <br />Then, suddenly, the image broke apart. <br />She stood, as though distracted, near the window <br />and felt the violent drum-beats of her heart. <br /> <br />His playing stopped. From outside, a fresh wind blew. <br />And strangely alien on the mirror-table <br />stood the black shako with its ivory skull. <br /> <br /> <br />Translated by Stephen Mitchell<br /><br />Rainer Maria Rilke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-last-evening/
