How shall I hold my soul
to not intrude upon yours?
How shall I lift it beyond
you to other things?
I would gladly lodge it with
the lost objects in the dark
in some far still place that
does not tremble when you tremble.
But all that touches me,
you and me,
plays us together, like the bow
of a violin that from two
strings draws forth one voice.
On what instrument are we strung?
What musician is playing?
Oh Sweet song.
Rainier Maria Rilke
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