This form-true translation of Rainer Maria Rilke’s poem “Tanagra” uses the same meters and rhyme schemes as the original.
A bit of burnt hard clay
some great sun’s burning brand
had fired—like the way
a gesture with her hand
survives a girl forever;
not reaching out, and never
leading from what’s within
toward some thing on a shelf,
but touching just itself,
like a hand on the chin.
We lift one statuette
and turn it, then one more,
until we almost “get”
why they’ve not faded yet.
But only fated for
more wonder, deeply, dearly
we know them, holding fast.
We smile a bit more clearly
than in the year now past.
Len Krisak’s most recent books are Virgil’s Eclogues and The Odes of Horace. His work has appeared over the years in The Hudson Review, The Sewanee Review, Agni, Agenda, Pleiades, PN Review, and The Hopkins Review, among others. The recipient of the Robert Penn Warren, Richard Wilbur, and Robert Frost Prizes, he is a four-time champion on Jeopardy!
Photo by Zitona
