The Swan
by Rainer Maria Rilke
The laboring through what is still undone
as though legs bound we hobbled along the way
is like the awkward walking of the sawn.
And dying-to let go no longer feel
the solid ground we stand on every day-
is like his anxious letting himself fall
into the water which receives him gently
and which as though with reverence and joy
draws back past him in streams on either side;
while infinitely silent and aware
in his full majesty and ever more
indifferent he condescends to glide.
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