The rich and fortunate do well to keep silent, <br />for no one cares to know who and what they are. <br />But those in need must reveal themselves, <br />must say: I am blind, <br />or: I'm on the verge of going blind, <br />or: nothing goes well with me on earth, <br />or: I have a sickly child, <br />or: I have little to hold me together... <br /> <br />And chances are this is not nearly enough. <br /> <br />And because people try to ignore them as they <br />pass by them: these unfortunate ones have to sing! <br /> <br />And at times one hears some excellent singing! <br /> <br />Of course, people differ in their tastes: some would <br />prefer to listen to choirs of boy-castrati. <br /> <br />But God himself comes often and stays long, <br />when the castrati's singing disturbs Him. <br /> <br /> <br />Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming<br /><br />Rainer Maria Rilke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-voices/
