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Possibility of Being: A Selection of Poems
Possibility of Being is a selection of poems by one of the most moving and original writers of this century, Rainer Maria Rilke (1857-l926). The title (taken from one of the Sonnets to Orpheus , ''Ibis is the Creature") reflects the central concern of both Rilke's life and the achievement of "being,” which this most spiritual yet least doctrinaire of modern German poets defined as "the experiencing of the completest possible inner intensity.'' The eighty-four poems included in this small volume will serve as a sound and inviting introduction to Rilke's strategies in the pursuit of "being." And just as the unicorn in "This Is the Creature" has an eternal "possibility of being" but only becomes visible in the mirror held by a virgin, so can our own possibilities become manifest in the mirror held by the sensitive artist. The poems are chosen from The Book of Hours (1899-1903), The Book of Images (1902 and 1906), New Poems (1907 and 1908), Requiem (1909), Duino Elegies (1923), Sonnets to Orpheus (1923), and the posthumous Poems 1906-26 . This selection was made by Professor Theodore Ziolkowski of Princeton University, who drew from the various New Directions volumes of Rilke's work translated by J. B. Leishman.
127 pages, Paperback
First published January 17, 1977
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396 people want to read
About the author
Rainer Maria Rilke
1,798 books6,932 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 - 30 of 32 reviews
May 16, 2016
Reading Rilke makes me feel like I have a huge boulder strapped to my shoulders. Then, in little flashes of light, it rolls away and you feel lightness anew, like you've never felt it before. Those moments are worth the weight.
June 6, 2018
Are we really such tremblingly breakable
things as destiny tries to pretend?
(Still.the Good Remains, Sonnets to Orpheus)
things as destiny tries to pretend?
(Still.the Good Remains, Sonnets to Orpheus)
February 12, 2024
This was so so difficult to get through but there were some beautiful poems which dropped like a stone in my heart. Really tough to keep up with for me personally.
One of my favourites was-
WORLD WAS IN THE FACE OF THE BELOVED
World was in the face of the beloved—
but was poured out all of a sudden:
world is outside, can’t be comprehended.
Why did I not drink, then, when I raised it,
drink from the full face of the beloved,
world—so near, I tasted its bouquet?
Oh, I did! I drank insatiably.
Only, I was so brim-full already
with world, that when I drank I overflowed.
One of my favourites was-
WORLD WAS IN THE FACE OF THE BELOVED
World was in the face of the beloved—
but was poured out all of a sudden:
world is outside, can’t be comprehended.
Why did I not drink, then, when I raised it,
drink from the full face of the beloved,
world—so near, I tasted its bouquet?
Oh, I did! I drank insatiably.
Only, I was so brim-full already
with world, that when I drank I overflowed.
September 11, 2021
In the beginning life was good to me;
it held me warm and gave me courage.
That this is granted all while in their youth,
how could I then have known of this.
I never knew what living was----.
But suddenly it was just year on year,
no more good, no more new, no more wonderful.
Life had been torn in two right down the middle.
That was not his fault nor mine
since both of us had nothing but patience;
but death has none.
I saw him coming (how rotten he looked),
and I watched him as he took and took:
and nothing was mine.
What, then, belonged to me; was mine, my own?
Was not even this utter wretchedness
on loan to me by fate?
Fate does not only claim your happiness,
it also wants your pain back and your tears
and buys the ruin as something useless, old.
Fate was present and acquired for a nothing
every expression my face is capable of,
even to the way I walk.
The daily diminishing of me went on
and after I was emptied fate gave me up
and left me standing there, abandoned.
it held me warm and gave me courage.
That this is granted all while in their youth,
how could I then have known of this.
I never knew what living was----.
But suddenly it was just year on year,
no more good, no more new, no more wonderful.
Life had been torn in two right down the middle.
That was not his fault nor mine
since both of us had nothing but patience;
but death has none.
I saw him coming (how rotten he looked),
and I watched him as he took and took:
and nothing was mine.
What, then, belonged to me; was mine, my own?
Was not even this utter wretchedness
on loan to me by fate?
Fate does not only claim your happiness,
it also wants your pain back and your tears
and buys the ruin as something useless, old.
Fate was present and acquired for a nothing
every expression my face is capable of,
even to the way I walk.
The daily diminishing of me went on
and after I was emptied fate gave me up
and left me standing there, abandoned.
September 4, 2010
The best translations of Rilke I have read, and I have read alot of them.
September 2, 2023
A lot of the earlier poems I didn't care as much for, but the Requiem section and the Elegies were really incredible
Being a not-really-religious person a lot of the poems which made religious references did not so much land with me, but there was sort of an underlying "transfiguration of the Other" sense to a lot of it that had some secular value as well
A few misc poems I particularly enjoyed:
-The First Elegy "even the noticing beasts are aware / that we don't feel very securely at home / in this intepreted world."
-Everything Beckons To Us "What have we learnt from living since we started, / except to find in others what we are?"
-To Music
-For Witold Hulewicz "we gaze out of every impassioned / joy at some wholly communal thing."
-The Eighth Elegy "nearing death, one perceives it no longer / and stares ahead--perhaps with large brute gaze"
- Roman Fountain "along the mossy tresses / to the last mirror, that would gently bring / its bowl's convex to smile with changefulnesses."
Being a not-really-religious person a lot of the poems which made religious references did not so much land with me, but there was sort of an underlying "transfiguration of the Other" sense to a lot of it that had some secular value as well
A few misc poems I particularly enjoyed:
-The First Elegy "even the noticing beasts are aware / that we don't feel very securely at home / in this intepreted world."
-Everything Beckons To Us "What have we learnt from living since we started, / except to find in others what we are?"
-To Music
-For Witold Hulewicz "we gaze out of every impassioned / joy at some wholly communal thing."
-The Eighth Elegy "nearing death, one perceives it no longer / and stares ahead--perhaps with large brute gaze"
- Roman Fountain "along the mossy tresses / to the last mirror, that would gently bring / its bowl's convex to smile with changefulnesses."
Read
February 22, 2022I’m trying to read a book of poetry for each month of the year. This is my very delayed January entry, which tells you how I did with it. Poetry is still challenging to me.
A poem I liked is the Ninth Elegy.
A poem I liked is the Ninth Elegy.
October 14, 2015
Read this while on vacation in Seattle, and it was an excellent book of poetry. That being said, I only found one whole poem that actually "spoke to me"... but it was all quite beautiful. There was one other poem that had a brief excerpt I enjoyed, but overall it was beautiful but not "exactly what I needed." His letters to Kappas are much, much more relatable, I felt.
July 9, 2020
and this bewildering will remain in us, / as in the sarcophagus, enclosed / with images of gods, rings, glasses, trappings, / there lay in slowly self-consuming wrappings / something being slowly decomposed— / till swallowed by those unknown mouths at last, / that never speak
April 18, 2008
Simple, sensual poetic goodness.
May 8, 2022
I'm giving it one star for the translation.
I was looking forward to reading Rilke so I bought two copies off eBay. The seller had two books with different translations (which I didn't know till they arrived, which I guess was lucky), I don't read German but soon after I began reading it felt off. It just didn't scan.
An example:
This copy (Possibilty of Being) translated by J. B. Leishman.
The Drinker's Song.
It wasn't in me. In and out it would g0.
I wanted to hold it. The wine held it, though.
(What it was, I no longer can say.)
Then the wine held this and the other thing out,
till I came to trust it beyond doubt.
In my imbecile way.
Now I'm in its power, and it flings me at will
about and about and is losing me still
to Death, that son of a bitch.
If he wins me, dirty card that I am,
he'll use me to scratch his grisly ham
and toss me to the ditch.
Another copy I have in "the Selected Poetry of... " translated by Stephen Mitchell
The Dunkard's Song.
It wasn't in me. It went out and in.
I wanted to hold it. It held, with Wine.
(I no longer know what it was.)
Then Wine held this and held that for me
till I came to depend on him totally.
Like an ass.
Now I'm playing his game and he deals me out
with a sneer on his lips, and maybe tonight
he will lose me to Death, that boor.
When he wins me, filthiest card in the deck,
he'll take me and scratch the scabs on his neck,
then toss me into the mire.
~
Also in this copy, translated by J. B. Leishman. In the poem called "Roman Fountain" he uses words like unhomesickly and downladdering I can't find definition results for them in online searches or in my OED.
itself serenely in its lovely chalice
unhomesickly outspreading, ring on ring,
just sometimes dreamily downladdering,
drop after drop, along the mossy tresses
to the last mirror, that would gently bring
its bowl's convex to smile with changefulness.
~
Another one "The Archaic Torso of Apollo" is much the same with its rather different translation.
I know I'm not great at reading poetry, but this translation didn't do it for me.
I was looking forward to reading Rilke so I bought two copies off eBay. The seller had two books with different translations (which I didn't know till they arrived, which I guess was lucky), I don't read German but soon after I began reading it felt off. It just didn't scan.
An example:
This copy (Possibilty of Being) translated by J. B. Leishman.
The Drinker's Song.
It wasn't in me. In and out it would g0.
I wanted to hold it. The wine held it, though.
(What it was, I no longer can say.)
Then the wine held this and the other thing out,
till I came to trust it beyond doubt.
In my imbecile way.
Now I'm in its power, and it flings me at will
about and about and is losing me still
to Death, that son of a bitch.
If he wins me, dirty card that I am,
he'll use me to scratch his grisly ham
and toss me to the ditch.
Another copy I have in "the Selected Poetry of... " translated by Stephen Mitchell
The Dunkard's Song.
It wasn't in me. It went out and in.
I wanted to hold it. It held, with Wine.
(I no longer know what it was.)
Then Wine held this and held that for me
till I came to depend on him totally.
Like an ass.
Now I'm playing his game and he deals me out
with a sneer on his lips, and maybe tonight
he will lose me to Death, that boor.
When he wins me, filthiest card in the deck,
he'll take me and scratch the scabs on his neck,
then toss me into the mire.
~
Also in this copy, translated by J. B. Leishman. In the poem called "Roman Fountain" he uses words like unhomesickly and downladdering I can't find definition results for them in online searches or in my OED.
itself serenely in its lovely chalice
unhomesickly outspreading, ring on ring,
just sometimes dreamily downladdering,
drop after drop, along the mossy tresses
to the last mirror, that would gently bring
its bowl's convex to smile with changefulness.
~
Another one "The Archaic Torso of Apollo" is much the same with its rather different translation.
I know I'm not great at reading poetry, but this translation didn't do it for me.
June 20, 2021
88. "Why, when this span of life might be fleeted away
as laurel, a little darker than all
the surrounding green, with tiny waves on the border
of every leaf (like the smile of a wind) - oh, why
have to be human, and, shunning Destiny,
long for Destiny? . . .
Not because happiness really
exists, that precipitate profit of imminent loss.
Not out of curiosity, not just to practice the heart,
that could still be there in laurel . . . . .
But because being here is much, and because all this
that's here, so fleeting, seems to require us
and strangely
concern us. Us the most fleeting of all. Just once,
everything, only for once. Once and no more.
And we, too,
once. And never again. But this
having been once, though only once,
having been once on earth - can it ever be cancelled?"
- The Ninth Elegy
as laurel, a little darker than all
the surrounding green, with tiny waves on the border
of every leaf (like the smile of a wind) - oh, why
have to be human, and, shunning Destiny,
long for Destiny? . . .
Not because happiness really
exists, that precipitate profit of imminent loss.
Not out of curiosity, not just to practice the heart,
that could still be there in laurel . . . . .
But because being here is much, and because all this
that's here, so fleeting, seems to require us
and strangely
concern us. Us the most fleeting of all. Just once,
everything, only for once. Once and no more.
And we, too,
once. And never again. But this
having been once, though only once,
having been once on earth - can it ever be cancelled?"
- The Ninth Elegy
December 3, 2023
Rilke’s “For a Friend” is singular. The longest entry of this collection and the first written in free verse, it evoked one of the strongest aesthetic emotional engagements I’ve experienced in a while, probably the single strongest I’ve ever had with a poem. I was mesmerized, hanging on every word, and felt myself ensconced in the reminiscence of a relationship I knew nothing of.
Unfortunately, I’m not very fond of many of the other lyrical selections included. There were certainly a few standouts, such as “The Reader,” “You Mustn’t Be Afraid, God,” “Everything Beckons To Us To Perceive It,” and “World Was In The Face Of The Beloved”. I’d recommend the collection off the strength of these poems, in which Rilke’s verse reaches synthesis with compelling metaphysical or emotional conceptions, but imagine there must be stronger collections in his oeuvre.
Unfortunately, I’m not very fond of many of the other lyrical selections included. There were certainly a few standouts, such as “The Reader,” “You Mustn’t Be Afraid, God,” “Everything Beckons To Us To Perceive It,” and “World Was In The Face Of The Beloved”. I’d recommend the collection off the strength of these poems, in which Rilke’s verse reaches synthesis with compelling metaphysical or emotional conceptions, but imagine there must be stronger collections in his oeuvre.
December 27, 2024
“For they're very clear with us, we that don't know our feeling's shape, but only that which forms it from outside. Who's not sat tense before his own heart's curtain? Up it would go: the scenery was Parting.”
…
“This, though: death, the whole of death, before life's start, to hold it so gently and so free from all resentment, transcends description.”
…
“Louder than storms, than oceans, the human voice
has cried…. What infinite overbalance of stillness
there must be in cosmic space, since the
grasshopper's shrillness stayed audible over our cries, and the stars appear silently there in the ether above our shrieking!”
…
“ROSE, OH THE PURE CONTRADICTION,
DELIGHT, OF BEING NO ONE'S SLEEP UNDER SO MANY LIDS.”
…
“This, though: death, the whole of death, before life's start, to hold it so gently and so free from all resentment, transcends description.”
…
“Louder than storms, than oceans, the human voice
has cried…. What infinite overbalance of stillness
there must be in cosmic space, since the
grasshopper's shrillness stayed audible over our cries, and the stars appear silently there in the ether above our shrieking!”
…
“ROSE, OH THE PURE CONTRADICTION,
DELIGHT, OF BEING NO ONE'S SLEEP UNDER SO MANY LIDS.”
March 3, 2020
I read this primarily after a lyric in musical theatre song. "Anyway" from Tales from the bad years.
"Do you remember how we used to read
Rilke, Joyce?
And we barely understood it,
But it gave us a voice"
Additionally Rilke was referenced in the film Jojo Rabbit with a quote from him at the end;
"Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final"
Sadly I just didn't 'get' this collection of poems.
Some ones did resonate with me but not many...
"Do you remember how we used to read
Rilke, Joyce?
And we barely understood it,
But it gave us a voice"
Additionally Rilke was referenced in the film Jojo Rabbit with a quote from him at the end;
"Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final"
Sadly I just didn't 'get' this collection of poems.
Some ones did resonate with me but not many...
July 19, 2019
I really enjoyed a lot of his poems, and like his style a lot. Some of his longer pieces were a bit harder to get through, I thought, however. Three poems that stuck with me were: “Autumn Day,” “The Mountain,” and “Spanish Dancer.” I also liked the poem about the blind woman, but I don't remember which it was...
June 5, 2025
Some very beautiful poems but many felt like Rilke was just doing too much. I felt a lot of mental load while reading these poems, which isn't always a bad thing, but definitely a book you have to think about.
November 7, 2025
This was another Rilke that I found in the library. I believe it was a sampling of poetry from various other works by Rainer Maria Rilke, but I would have to read the titles referenced to say for sure. An incohesive mix, but I do enjoy his poetry.
September 3, 2017
I was mostly bored, possibly because of the translation, but there were still a few affecting poems. I would've liked more context, but that'd probably defeat the purpose of this small collection.
February 19, 2020
If I ever figure out what these poems are communicating, I will write about it here.
March 2, 2022
One or two touching poems but the rest just didn't stand out.
April 18, 2022
I like Rilke, but not this translation!
For those who want to read the Duino Elegies, Requiem might be a good start. Really, that's like a simpler version of the elegies.
For those who want to read the Duino Elegies, Requiem might be a good start. Really, that's like a simpler version of the elegies.
June 25, 2022
This rating has nothing to do with the poet, whose work I typically enjoy, and everything to do with the collection, which was lacking in its translation and selections from Rilke’s body of work.
November 22, 2022
4.5 stars.
So many good books this month!!
So many good books this month!!
Read
March 11, 2024I hope to learn to appreciate poetry!!
July 12, 2025
For a Friend is one of the best poems I’ve read in a bit
September 11, 2025
my new favorite poet
November 23, 2018
from Requiem
I’ll simply watch the animals, that something
of their own way of turning may glide over
into my joints; I’ll have a brief existence
within their eyes, that solemnly retain me
and slowly loose me, calmly, without judgment.
I’ll make the gardeners repeat by heart
the names of many flowers and so bring back
in pots of lovely proper names a remnant,
a little remnant, of the hundred perfumes.
And I will purchase fruits too, fruits, wherein
that country, sky and all, will re-exist.
For that was what you understood: full fruits.
You used to set them out in bowls before you
and counterpoise their heaviness with colors.
And women too appeared to you as fruits,
and children too, both of them from within
impelled into the forms of their existence.
And finally you saw yourself as fruit,
lifted yourself out of your clothes and carried
that self before the mirror, let it in
up to your gaze; which remained, large, in front,
and did not say: that’s me; no, but: this is.
So uninquiring was your gaze at last,
so unpossessive and so truly poor,
it wanted even you no longer: holy.
*
March 18, 2011
I hate to say it because I'm a pretty big fan of Rilke's soul poetry but this one was a doozy. With a rare few exceptions, I was bored and moreover, had a hard time paying attention to these poems. Good to know we all get better with age...?
Currently reading
September 10, 2009I read a poem from this book here and there, when I feel like it. I like taking it in small doses and letting a poem roll around in my mind for a bit!
Displaying 1 - 30 of 32 reviews