Perhaps it's no more than the fire's reflection <br />on some piece of gleaming furniture <br />that the child remembers so much later <br />like a revelation. <br /> <br />And if in his later life, one day <br />wounds him like so many others, <br />it's because he mistook some risk <br />or other for a promise. <br /> <br />Let's not forget the music, either, <br />that soon had hauled him <br />toward absence complicated <br />by an overflowing heart.... <br /> <br /> <br />Translated by A. Poulin<br /><br />Rainer Maria Rilke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fire-s-reflection/
