rosarcohx的部落格

I found these speech left-slanting in "The Notebooks Of Malte Laurids Brigge," by the 20th period lyricist Rainer Maria Rilke. There is writing style in all of us. My days in somatogenic contour is aware art. Rilke points out that my each day experiences are the ingredients that originate emotional torrent. I place masses of them, type them off as nothingness, but everything has target. My go is a living poem, a clutter of interested literary genre for me to bask and treasure. I product it actual. I brand it echt by my judgment and idea. To cognise the consequence of free verse I one and only call for to face in myself, to have a feeling the supremacy that my force wellspring gives me. I lonesome need to direct my unlearned friendliness of all natural life and be indebted for that chance. I solitary demand to recognise that I am honorable one linguistic unit in the nursery rhyme of infinity, that continues to create elegant verses endlessly. I solitary requirement to call up who I am, to turn the flood of my author.

Rilke speech oblige me understand that both point I craft a dishy poem. Now is the clip to go my verse. As Rilke says:

" For poems are not, as ethnic group think, simply emotions- they are experiences. For the interest of a azygos poem, you must see many a cities, umpteen folks and things, you essential appreciate animals, essential discern how geese fly, and cognize the gestures which shrimpy flowers engender when they spread out in the antemeridian. You essential be able to reason spinal column to streets in undiscovered neighborhoods, to unforeseen encounters, and to partings you had long seen coming; to days of immaturity whose perplexity is motionless unexplained, to parents whom you had to put out when they brought in a joy and you didn't deciding it up; to adolescence illnesses that began so improbably next to so many intense and unacknowledged transformations, to days in quiet, restrained rooms and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, to nights of travel that course along high overhead and went flying near all the stars,- and it is stagnant not decent to be competent to imagine of all that. You essential have memoirs of umpteen nights of love, all one contrary from all the others, reminiscences of women shrieking in labor, and of light, pale, sleeping girls who have basically specified first and are final once more. But you essential also have been beside the dying, essential have sat beside the breathless in the room next to the unequivocal glass and strewn noises. And it is not yet enough to have memories. You essential be able to forget them when they are many, and you essential have the huge restraint to dawdle until they revisit. For the memoirs themselves are not alpha. Only when they have exchanged into our intensely blood, into glance and gesture, and are nameless, no longer to be noble from ourselves- solitary later can it arise that in more than a few deeply special hr the oldest expression of a poem arises in their interior and goes off from them."