Product Description

With all his contradictions, Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926) is one of the fathers of modern literature and the Duino Elegies one of its great monuments. Begun in 1912 but not completed until 1922, they are `modern' in almost every sense the word has acquired; yet Rilke was by temperament anti-moderhn, a snob and a romantic. He was devoted to the three A's: Architecture, Agriculture, Aristocracy. The Duino Elegies aroused real excitement among English readers when the now-dated Leishman/Spender versions first appeared in the 1930s. Stephen Cohn, the distinguished artist and teacher, has worked for over three years to complete this outstanding new translation. Peter Porter writes: `Your translation must have grandeur, essential size in its component parts, and speed to catch the marvellous twists of Rilke's imagination.' He adds, `Cohn has met all these requirements.' These versions show a rare empathy with the originals and an instinct for the right diction and cadence. They are, says Porter, `the most flowing and organic I have read.'

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #96720 in Books
• Published on: 1989-07-01
• Original language: German
• Binding: Paperback
• 128 pages

About the Author
RAINER MARIA RILKE (1875-1926) is widely regarded as the greatest German language poet since Goethe. Rilke worked for some time as Rodin's secretary at Meudon, and the sculptor's example lies behind the `new' bias of the poems of 1907 and 1908. These Neue Gedichte-the New Poems-are among the most accessible works by this outstanding lyric poet.

Customer Reviews

Rilke tells us what the God really is
When I first read this book I learned poetry because poetry must come from the heart. And Rilke is the heart of imagination. The teacher of writing. God's liar. Telling stories about the heaven and hell. Kissing the angels. Falling down to the deepest see. And what we see is what we dont. The universe is covered with dust. He is coming from mountains and through the lakes. Rilke has written like somebody is whispering to your ears. Those are the concertoes of Mozart and sculptures of Michaelangelo. You can see Rilke in the lines. You can see God whispering to your ears. And the whole tragedy is this: He is telling those words. There he is writing all alone. Looking to the mirror. Wishing that all his poems are telling the truth. He is crying for the others who had gone before him. Who is gonna find him in those lines?