Rilke’s things are all your own things
Waiting for their work and patiently
As if you were the thinking sculptor
In a garden and talking to daughter,
Who brought a snail for inspection.

Daughter has snail in hand smooth
As surface of Greek masterpieces.
Words are loose things lying about
Awaiting an order patiently at night
While you were sleeping on pillow.

Words are things as in girl’s hand.
They are smooth on the underside
Like the Greek sculptor’s patience
And smoothness of Rike’s thinking
An elegy or a sonnet , as if a thing
Frozen in thinking and staying put.

(Thinking sculptor is Rodin with whom Rilke had a close relationship)

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