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The Life of the Virgin Mary: A Cycle of Poems
The Life of the Virgin A Cycle of Poems (Waxwing Poems) (View amazon detail page) 1901233995
- GenresPoetryGerman Literature
32 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1912
3 people are currently reading
119 people want to read
About the author
Rainer Maria Rilke
1,849 books7,030 followersA mystic lyricism and precise imagery often marked verse of German poet Rainer Maria Rilke, whose collections profoundly influenced 20th-century German literature and include
The Book of Hours
(1905) and
The Duino Elegies
(1923).
People consider him of the greatest 20th century users of the language.
His haunting images tend to focus on the difficulty of communion with the ineffable in an age of disbelief, solitude, and profound anxiety — themes that tend to position him as a transitional figure between the traditional and the modernist poets.
His two most famous sequences include the Sonnets to Orpheus , and his most famous prose works include the Letters to a Young Poet and the semi-autobiographical The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge .
He also wrote more than four hundred poems in French, dedicated to the canton of Valais in Switzerland, his homeland of choice.
People consider him of the greatest 20th century users of the language.
His haunting images tend to focus on the difficulty of communion with the ineffable in an age of disbelief, solitude, and profound anxiety — themes that tend to position him as a transitional figure between the traditional and the modernist poets.
His two most famous sequences include the Sonnets to Orpheus , and his most famous prose works include the Letters to a Young Poet and the semi-autobiographical The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge .
He also wrote more than four hundred poems in French, dedicated to the canton of Valais in Switzerland, his homeland of choice.
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
July 29, 2016
There are just 15 poems under thirteen titles. The titles are organized in a chronological way from the Birth of Mary to 'Death' of Mary. And the poems are very much faithful to the theology of the Catholic Church.
Originally these poems were supposed to be accompanied by paintings of Heinrich Vogeler. The project could not come to its fruition. But thankfully we have the poems. And they are lovely and spiritually nourishing.
Here is a sample (One of the Five star poems):
OF THE MARRIAGE AT CANA
Could she be anything but very proud
of him who made the plainest things become
lovely? And was not the high, large accustomed
night as though beside itself when he appeared?
Did not his having lost himself once, also
add unbelievably to his renown?
And did the wisest not change mouth into
ears, to hear him? Had not the house grown
new, at his voice? Ah, surely in those days
she had restrained herself a hundred times
from beaming forth with her delight in him.
And so she followed after him, amazed.
But there on that day at the wedding feast
when, unexpectedly, more wine was needed,
she looked, and begged a gesture at the least
and did not understand when he protested.
Then he did it. And she saw much later
how she had thrust him then upon his way.
Now he'd become a real miracle-maker,
and in this act unalterably there lay
the sacrifice. Yes, written and decreed.
Then on that day, was it prepared already?
She; it was she had driven on the deed
in the blindness of her vanity.
At table, heaped with vegetables and fruits,
she shared the joy, and never understood
that the water from her own tear-ducts,
with this wine, had been transformed to blood.
Originally these poems were supposed to be accompanied by paintings of Heinrich Vogeler. The project could not come to its fruition. But thankfully we have the poems. And they are lovely and spiritually nourishing.
Here is a sample (One of the Five star poems):
OF THE MARRIAGE AT CANA
Could she be anything but very proud
of him who made the plainest things become
lovely? And was not the high, large accustomed
night as though beside itself when he appeared?
Did not his having lost himself once, also
add unbelievably to his renown?
And did the wisest not change mouth into
ears, to hear him? Had not the house grown
new, at his voice? Ah, surely in those days
she had restrained herself a hundred times
from beaming forth with her delight in him.
And so she followed after him, amazed.
But there on that day at the wedding feast
when, unexpectedly, more wine was needed,
she looked, and begged a gesture at the least
and did not understand when he protested.
Then he did it. And she saw much later
how she had thrust him then upon his way.
Now he'd become a real miracle-maker,
and in this act unalterably there lay
the sacrifice. Yes, written and decreed.
Then on that day, was it prepared already?
She; it was she had driven on the deed
in the blindness of her vanity.
At table, heaped with vegetables and fruits,
she shared the joy, and never understood
that the water from her own tear-ducts,
with this wine, had been transformed to blood.
June 28, 2023
"Agora completou-se o meu sofrimento e inominavelmente
dele estou repleta. Fico imóvel como o interior
da pedra fica imóvel.
Dura como estou, uma coisa apenas sei na minha dor:
Tu cresceste
e cresceste,
para Te elevares
como dor desmedida
muito para lá da medida do meu coração.
Agora jazes atravessado no meu colo,
agora já não Te posso
dar à luz."
Pietà, Rainer Maria Rilke
Trad. Maria Teresa Dias Furtado
dele estou repleta. Fico imóvel como o interior
da pedra fica imóvel.
Dura como estou, uma coisa apenas sei na minha dor:
Tu cresceste
e cresceste,
para Te elevares
como dor desmedida
muito para lá da medida do meu coração.
Agora jazes atravessado no meu colo,
agora já não Te posso
dar à luz."
Pietà, Rainer Maria Rilke
Trad. Maria Teresa Dias Furtado
March 16, 2021
"Pietà
Maintenant ma détresse est à son comble, et indicible m'emplit. Je suis glacée comme est glacé le cœur de
la pierre.
Dure comme je suis, je ne sais qu'une chose ;
Tu as grandi -
... tu es devenu si grand
que, comme une douleur trop grande,
de toute part tu débordes
la mesure de mon cœur.
Maintenant te voici étendu en travers de mes genoux, maintenant je ne puis plus
te donner le jour."
Belle édition avec une préface passionnante ayant pour visée d'éclairer la bibliographie de Rilke à l'aune de sa vie.
J'ai été particulièrement émue par les textes qui touchent à la maternité de Marie. Même si ces textes sont écrits poussés par la Foi et afin de glorifier le texte biblique, je les trouve pleins de simplicité et représentatifs de ce sentiment immense, incommensurable, qu'est le sentiment maternel. Magnifique !
Maintenant ma détresse est à son comble, et indicible m'emplit. Je suis glacée comme est glacé le cœur de
la pierre.
Dure comme je suis, je ne sais qu'une chose ;
Tu as grandi -
... tu es devenu si grand
que, comme une douleur trop grande,
de toute part tu débordes
la mesure de mon cœur.
Maintenant te voici étendu en travers de mes genoux, maintenant je ne puis plus
te donner le jour."
Belle édition avec une préface passionnante ayant pour visée d'éclairer la bibliographie de Rilke à l'aune de sa vie.
J'ai été particulièrement émue par les textes qui touchent à la maternité de Marie. Même si ces textes sont écrits poussés par la Foi et afin de glorifier le texte biblique, je les trouve pleins de simplicité et représentatifs de ce sentiment immense, incommensurable, qu'est le sentiment maternel. Magnifique !
December 12, 2022
Once I discovered this book existed (earlier today) I stopped what I was doing to read it immediately. It's not often one finds that their favorite poet has written a small collection of poems about one of their favorite/most dear subjects to read about-- in this case, the poet Rainer Maria Rilke penning a brief collection on Maryam alayhi-salaam.
I often read Rilke's poetry in a whisper-like tone given how delicate and sublime his poems are, and this was the case with all of the poems in this collection. They reminded me a lot of the poem that he wrote about the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (https://dailypoetry.me/rilke/mohammed...), in that he focuses on moments of deep significance in the lives of these prophetic people and explores the emotions they might have felt during them.
Rilke's focus on the inward compels the reader to place themselves in the shoes of the subject and ponder the powerful emotions they must have felt, to the best of one's ability. So you don't walk away having "learned" something about these people per se, but with a sense of marvel and awe, having come a little closer to experiencing something ineffable.
The PDF of the collection is available here: https://archive.org/details/lifeofvir...
I often read Rilke's poetry in a whisper-like tone given how delicate and sublime his poems are, and this was the case with all of the poems in this collection. They reminded me a lot of the poem that he wrote about the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (https://dailypoetry.me/rilke/mohammed...), in that he focuses on moments of deep significance in the lives of these prophetic people and explores the emotions they might have felt during them.
Rilke's focus on the inward compels the reader to place themselves in the shoes of the subject and ponder the powerful emotions they must have felt, to the best of one's ability. So you don't walk away having "learned" something about these people per se, but with a sense of marvel and awe, having come a little closer to experiencing something ineffable.
The PDF of the collection is available here: https://archive.org/details/lifeofvir...
January 31, 2014
El otro día fui a tomar un café con Ada, fue una mañana esplendorosa aunque yo no me había bañado. Terminamos de desayunar a las 2 de la tarde y después me pidió que la acompañara a comprar un libro. Sobre decir que yo no tenía dinero, ni un peso (hasta el café lo tuvo que pagar ella, ¿qué clase de novia soy?). Ada quería comprar una edición interesante que encontró de Gramática de la fantasía. Yo solo fui a ver, lo juro. Pero en los estantes de poesía vi éste libro. Muy barato, lo pueden comprar en cualquier librería (es reciente publicación) por setenta pesos. Edición bilingüe, cosa que siempre se agradece aunque uno no mastique el alemán, bonito papel, bien formado. Desconfío un poco (pero muy poco) de la traducción, pues de Pablo Soler Frost leí su traducción de Robinson Jeffers y algunas cosas me parecieron muy desafortunadas. Sin embargo, es buen traductor, eso si. Además, es la primera vez (según dice el mismo Soler Frost) que se traduce esta obra chiquita, bella y delicada. Debemos recordar que el compositor Paul Hindemith dedicó un ciclo de canciones basadas en éstos poemas de Rilke que fueron publicados en 1913, mientras que las canciones aparecieron diez años después, en 1923. Cada verso está cargado de intención y agudeza. Son versos delicados, bien hechos, bien pensados pero cargados de sentimientos puros y hermosos. Logra un punto de vista diferente de la llamada "más grande historia del mundo", la historia de la vida de Jesús. Pues los dos personajes son como esferas, cada una independiente, cada una perfecta que tuvieron por ventura entrecruzarse y unirse para toda la eternidad. Y por lo tanto resulta interesante esa intimidad de los poemas que muestra una María más humana y dolorosa, más cercana como sierva de Dios y madre del cristo sin caer en cosas irreconocibles. Lo reconocemos desde el sentimiento, como una herida que todos tenemos abierta y por la cual sentimos compasión. Bellísimo libro, en verdad, está en setenta pesos y no se van a arrepentir.
Al final, con ojos de borrego miré a Ada y ella me dijo, "tómalo yo te lo compro ¿para qué sirven las novias si no?"... Y ya encarrerado el gato, también me llevé uno de Stendhal que encontré por treinta pesos. En serio, soy una mala novia, prometo comprarle algún libro o algo. Y también a mi novio, que me regaló la poesía y prosa completa de Nerval. Ya ven...
Al final, con ojos de borrego miré a Ada y ella me dijo, "tómalo yo te lo compro ¿para qué sirven las novias si no?"... Y ya encarrerado el gato, también me llevé uno de Stendhal que encontré por treinta pesos. En serio, soy una mala novia, prometo comprarle algún libro o algo. Y también a mi novio, que me regaló la poesía y prosa completa de Nerval. Ya ven...
April 17, 2022
En solo 13 poemas se recorre la vida completa de María, la madre del mesías. La traducción a cargo de Pablo Soler Frost me dejó bastante satisfecho. Rilke casi me hace creyente.
December 14, 2021
Pietà
Jetzt wird mein Elend voll, und namenlos
erfüllt es mich. Ich starre wie des Steins
Inneres starrt.
Hart wie ich bin, weiß ich nur Eins:
Du wurdest groß –
... und wurdest groß,
um als zu großer Schmerz
ganz über meines Herzens Fassung
hinauszustehn.
Jetzt liegst du quer durch meinen Schoß,
jetzt kann ich dich nicht mehr
gebären.
Jetzt wird mein Elend voll, und namenlos
erfüllt es mich. Ich starre wie des Steins
Inneres starrt.
Hart wie ich bin, weiß ich nur Eins:
Du wurdest groß –
... und wurdest groß,
um als zu großer Schmerz
ganz über meines Herzens Fassung
hinauszustehn.
Jetzt liegst du quer durch meinen Schoß,
jetzt kann ich dich nicht mehr
gebären.
July 2, 2025
“To comprehend how she was at that time,
you must first imagine yourself in a place
where pillars work within you, where you climb
the stairs and feel the steps, where the deep space
of a chasm bridged with arches full of peril
remained in you because it had been piled
of fragments which you can no longer raise
lest you tear down yourself. If you have gone
so far that all in you is wall and stone,
stairway, vista, vaulting — try
with both your hands to drag aside the curtain
so heavy there before you, just a bit:
a glory flashes from the infinite
and overcomes your breath and numbs your touch.
Palace looks on palace from depth to heights;
from balustrades stream broader balustrades,
emerging above such verges that the sight
grows dizzy, gazing, and you are afraid.
Near-by the censers nebulously shade
the air with murk; but level rays
are aimed at you from the most distant space,
and if on slowly nearing vestments plays
radiance from vessels of clear flame,
how will you bear it?”
—
“within her heart. She so yearned
to give herself up to the inner signs —
her parents had intended to present her —
the threatening one on whose breast jewels burned
seemed to receive her; but she passed through all,
small as she was, forth from every hand,
into her destiny prepared, more ample
than the hall and heavier than the temple.”
—
“Not that an angel came in, understand,
was she alarmed. As little as others start
when a sunray or beam of moonlight darts
into a room and busies itself here and there,
would she have been made angry by the guise
in which an angel came. Could she surmise
how tedious angels find such tarrying here?
(Oh, if we knew how pure she was! A hind,
once when resting, saw her in the wood,
and gazing lost itself until it could —
all without any coupling with its kind —
conceive the unicorn, pure animal,
the beast of light.) Not that he entered, but
that he bowed down so close to her the face
of a young man, this angel, that her gaze
as she glanced up joined with his, as if all
outside there suddenly seemed void and what
the millions saw, were doing, suffering,
seemed forced into them: only she and he —
the seeing and seen, the eye and eye's delight
nowhere else but in this one place. See!
this is frightening. And they were both afraid.
Then the angel sang his melody.”
—
“You, the unafraid, if you could know
how the future's shining even now
on your upgazing faces. Much will come
to pass in this strong light. I will trust you
with it, for you are close-mouthed. Unto true
believers all things speak here. Fire and rain,
the flight of birds, the wind, and what you are—
all speak, none predominant, growing vain,
battening itself. You do not constrain
the Things within the breast's interstices
to torture them. Even as his bliss
streams through an angel, earthly ecstasies
penetrate you. Should a thornbush flame,
out of which the Eternal Himself might call,
and if the cherubim should deign
to walk by your flock, you'd marvel not at all,
but throw yourselves down, worshiping, and call
this earth. Such things have been. Now something new
shall be to make earth whirl through wider room.
What's a thornbush to us? The Lord
feels Himself into a virgin's womb.
I am the bright recórd
of her deep fervor, I who go with you.”
—
“They drag before your lap
treasures which they deem the very greatest,
and you're astonished at these gifts perhaps —
but see here in the foldings of your shawl
how he already has surpassed them all.
All amber that ships carry far away,
the golden ornaments and overcloying
spices stealing in the senses: yet
all these were fleeting things that made no stay,
and finally one has little but regret.
But—you will soon know it—He brings joy.”
—
“So richly it was promised I should bear you —
why didn't you fiercely burst from me and leave?
If you need only tigers to break and tear you,
why was I reared in the women's house, to weave
and make for you a soft clean swaddling-gown
in which was not the smallest seam to chafe
your body? Even so was my whole life —
now suddenly you twist nature upside down.”
—
“Now is my misery full. Unutterably
it fills me. I am numb, as stone
is numb inside.
Hard as I am, only one thing I know:
You grew
... and grew,
as if on purpose to stand forth
as agony too vast
for my heart to seize and hold.
Now you lie across my lap —
now I can no more
give birth to you.”
you must first imagine yourself in a place
where pillars work within you, where you climb
the stairs and feel the steps, where the deep space
of a chasm bridged with arches full of peril
remained in you because it had been piled
of fragments which you can no longer raise
lest you tear down yourself. If you have gone
so far that all in you is wall and stone,
stairway, vista, vaulting — try
with both your hands to drag aside the curtain
so heavy there before you, just a bit:
a glory flashes from the infinite
and overcomes your breath and numbs your touch.
Palace looks on palace from depth to heights;
from balustrades stream broader balustrades,
emerging above such verges that the sight
grows dizzy, gazing, and you are afraid.
Near-by the censers nebulously shade
the air with murk; but level rays
are aimed at you from the most distant space,
and if on slowly nearing vestments plays
radiance from vessels of clear flame,
how will you bear it?”
—
“within her heart. She so yearned
to give herself up to the inner signs —
her parents had intended to present her —
the threatening one on whose breast jewels burned
seemed to receive her; but she passed through all,
small as she was, forth from every hand,
into her destiny prepared, more ample
than the hall and heavier than the temple.”
—
“Not that an angel came in, understand,
was she alarmed. As little as others start
when a sunray or beam of moonlight darts
into a room and busies itself here and there,
would she have been made angry by the guise
in which an angel came. Could she surmise
how tedious angels find such tarrying here?
(Oh, if we knew how pure she was! A hind,
once when resting, saw her in the wood,
and gazing lost itself until it could —
all without any coupling with its kind —
conceive the unicorn, pure animal,
the beast of light.) Not that he entered, but
that he bowed down so close to her the face
of a young man, this angel, that her gaze
as she glanced up joined with his, as if all
outside there suddenly seemed void and what
the millions saw, were doing, suffering,
seemed forced into them: only she and he —
the seeing and seen, the eye and eye's delight
nowhere else but in this one place. See!
this is frightening. And they were both afraid.
Then the angel sang his melody.”
—
“You, the unafraid, if you could know
how the future's shining even now
on your upgazing faces. Much will come
to pass in this strong light. I will trust you
with it, for you are close-mouthed. Unto true
believers all things speak here. Fire and rain,
the flight of birds, the wind, and what you are—
all speak, none predominant, growing vain,
battening itself. You do not constrain
the Things within the breast's interstices
to torture them. Even as his bliss
streams through an angel, earthly ecstasies
penetrate you. Should a thornbush flame,
out of which the Eternal Himself might call,
and if the cherubim should deign
to walk by your flock, you'd marvel not at all,
but throw yourselves down, worshiping, and call
this earth. Such things have been. Now something new
shall be to make earth whirl through wider room.
What's a thornbush to us? The Lord
feels Himself into a virgin's womb.
I am the bright recórd
of her deep fervor, I who go with you.”
—
“They drag before your lap
treasures which they deem the very greatest,
and you're astonished at these gifts perhaps —
but see here in the foldings of your shawl
how he already has surpassed them all.
All amber that ships carry far away,
the golden ornaments and overcloying
spices stealing in the senses: yet
all these were fleeting things that made no stay,
and finally one has little but regret.
But—you will soon know it—He brings joy.”
—
“So richly it was promised I should bear you —
why didn't you fiercely burst from me and leave?
If you need only tigers to break and tear you,
why was I reared in the women's house, to weave
and make for you a soft clean swaddling-gown
in which was not the smallest seam to chafe
your body? Even so was my whole life —
now suddenly you twist nature upside down.”
—
“Now is my misery full. Unutterably
it fills me. I am numb, as stone
is numb inside.
Hard as I am, only one thing I know:
You grew
... and grew,
as if on purpose to stand forth
as agony too vast
for my heart to seize and hold.
Now you lie across my lap —
now I can no more
give birth to you.”
March 16, 2018
El primero en componer acerca de la vida de María no fue un hombre ni una mujer, sino un ángel, al cantar su melodía: "Ave, María, llena eres de gracia. El Señor es contigo". Y su poema continúo en las palabras de Isabel: "Bendita eres entre todas las mujeres" y en las palabras de Ana y Simeon en el Templo.
January 11, 2023
Crazy smukke elegier læste hele bogen højt for mig selv i et vanvittigt højstemt og højkatolsk humør, bør læses af enhver helst i løbet julen.
Rilkes tyske kombineret med katolicismen og liturgiens tunghed transcenderer seriøst sproget og Maria bliver alle fortællingers sande moder
Rilkes tyske kombineret med katolicismen og liturgiens tunghed transcenderer seriøst sproget og Maria bliver alle fortællingers sande moder
June 20, 2024
This short book of poetry from Rilke's earlier years didn't awe my like his elegies from his later years. Still, the book was a nice read and full of beautiful verses and emotions and versatile language.
January 26, 2018
don't you love reading books while waiting for office hours? anyway - this is otherworldly but not his best
December 8, 2020
Εντυπωσιακό!!!
January 26, 2023
Traducción muy bella, muy bien cuidada. La poesía de Rilke nunca queda a deber. Un conjunto bastante sólido, bien pensado, planeado y ejecutado.
September 10, 2024
Didn't love the poems (or the theme) but liked the link between them and the paintings.
July 19, 2019
Sempre achei que poesia não era muito para mim até ler Rilke. Esse livro, tão emocionante, me tocou especialmente em um momento em que tenho me dedicado e lido mais sobre a vida de santos e mártires.
Li a maior parte, se não todos, com lágrimas nos olhos ou escorrendo pelo rosto; um poder enorme das palavras de Rilke de nos transportar para a situação de Maria, suas dificuldades, sofrimentos, angústia e alegrias ao longo de uma vida tão abençoada.
Para os interessados em religião ou em uma poesia poderosa, Vida de Maria é muito recomendado!
Li a maior parte, se não todos, com lágrimas nos olhos ou escorrendo pelo rosto; um poder enorme das palavras de Rilke de nos transportar para a situação de Maria, suas dificuldades, sofrimentos, angústia e alegrias ao longo de uma vida tão abençoada.
Para os interessados em religião ou em uma poesia poderosa, Vida de Maria é muito recomendado!
August 5, 2015
J'adore Rainer Maria Rilke, et il faut être un passionné pour aimer ce recueil de poésie dédiés à Marie. Religion et dévotion se mêlent
Un livre pour les passionnés de cet auteur !
Un livre pour les passionnés de cet auteur !
August 12, 2016
definitely not my cup of tea.
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews