poet Rainer Maria Rilke

Rainer Maria Rilke

#61 on top 500 poets

Before Summer Rain

Suddenly, from all the green around you,
something-you don't know what-has disappeared;
you feel it creeping closer to the window,
in total silence. From the nearby wood

you hear the urgent whistling of a plover,
reminding you of someone's Saint Jerome:
so much solitude and passion come
from that one voice, whose fierce request the downpour

will grant. The walls, with their ancient portraits, glide
away from us, cautiously, as though
they weren't supposed to hear what we are saying.

And reflected on the faded tapestries now;
the chill, uncertain sunlight of those long
childhood hours when you were so afraid.

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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Comments about Before Summer Rain by Rainer Maria Rilke

  • Sachidananda PandaSachidananda Panda (7/18/2020 12:34:00 AM)

    " The walls, with their ancient portraits, glide
    away from us, cautiously, as though
    they weren't supposed to hear what we are saying." ... Marvellous indeed... a narrative excellence... Thanks

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  • Adeeb AlfatehAdeeb Alfateh (5/30/2019 3:24:00 AM)

    loving 10+++++++++++++++++++++++

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  • Adeeb AlfatehAdeeb Alfateh (5/30/2019 3:24:00 AM)

    great loving-
    you hear the urgent whistling of a plover,
    reminding you of someone's Saint Jerome:
    so much solitude and passion come
    from that one voice, whose fierce request the downpour..//

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  • Leela chatterjee (7/18/2018 10:51:00 AM)

    So much solitude and passion come from one voice and uncertain sunlight of long childhood hours.

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  • Anonymous (7/16/2018 3:24:00 PM)

    It’s ok. It could use more excitement

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  • anonymus (6/13/2018 11:04:00 AM)

    it is really beautiful and detailed. I love the clever way things are being described which makes me think of lovely memories.

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  • Dah HelmerDah Helmer (7/13/2016 11:35:00 AM)

    The walls, with their ancient portraits, glide
    away from us, cautiously, as though
    they weren't supposed to hear what we are saying –– powerful language.

    Bravo, Poet! ––))

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  • Douglas Scotney (7/8/2016 11:30:00 PM)

    yet 'pleuvoir' is French 'rain'; so if we pronounce 'Plover' 'Plirvwuh'

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  • Tapan M. SarenTapan M. Saren (7/8/2016 1:08:00 PM)

    A good poem indeed. Thanks for sharing

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  • Anil Kumar PandaAnil Kumar Panda (7/8/2016 9:44:00 AM)

    Great imagery. Thanks for sharing.

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  • Edward Kofi LouisEdward Kofi Louis (7/8/2016 5:03:00 AM)

    Of those long childhood hours! ! Nice work.

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  • Pranab K ChakrabortyPranab K Chakraborty (7/8/2016 3:18:00 AM)

    Silence illustrated with master-hand. Magnificent the style of portraiting solitude. It's expected from Rilke, done it with excellence. Great post. Thanks to PH.............................................................................................

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  • Michael Morgan (8/4/2014 9:56:00 PM)

    referring to the bird, the German says 'regen-pfeiffer', I believe, or 'rain-piper'. Plover doesn't do it. MM

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  • * Sunprincess * (3/9/2014 3:28:00 AM)

    .........an amazing write....hauntingly beautiful..

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  • Václav Z J PinkavaVáclav Z J Pinkava (6/25/2013 4:46:00 AM)

    Before the Summer Rain

    Suddenly out of all green in the park,
    you don't know what, a something, taken, wanes;
    you feel like coming closer to the panes,
    there, silent, bide. Just fervently and stark,
    out of the wood intones the piping plover,
    you think of some Hieronymus of hush:
    such yearning earnest solitude and fever,
    this solo sounding voice, whom waters' gush
    will soon hear out. Walls of the hall recoiled
    with all their pictures from us, pulled away,
    so as not to eavesdrop on us, as they might.
    The faded wallpaper reflects the day,
    the not so certain post meridian light,
    in which you were afraid, while still a child.

    (transl vzjp)

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    Scharlie Meeuws(2/25/2018 10:53:00 AM)

    i love your translation. it is so very difficult to get the original flow and rhyme....your translation gives a much better idea and feel to the original poem. well done!

    12 person liked.
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  • Václav Z J PinkavaVáclav Z J Pinkava (6/24/2013 4:08:00 PM)

    Original:

    Vor dem Sommerregen

    Auf einmal ist aus allem Grün im Park
    man weiß nicht was, ein Etwas, fortgenommen;
    man fühlt ihn näher an die Fenster kommen
    und schweigsam sein. Inständig nur und stark

    ertönt aus dem Gehölz der Regenpfeifer,
    man denkt an einen Hieronymus:
    so sehr steigt irgend Einsamkeit und Eifer
    aus dieser einen Stimme, die der Guß

    erhören wird. Des Saales Wände sind
    mit ihren Bildern von uns fortgetreten,
    als dürften sie nicht hören was wir sagen.

    Es spiegeln die verblichenen Tapeten
    das ungewisse Licht von Nachmittagen,
    in denen man sich fürchtete als Kind.

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  • L. M. (4/1/2012 8:11:00 PM)

    And reflected on the faded tapestries now;
    the chill, uncertain sunlight of those long
    childhood hours when you were so afraid.


    That was when I realized this guy was amazing.

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Read poems about / on: solitude, childhood, passion, silence, green, rain, summer