Song of the Women to the Poet

We're perfect for you — bliss beyond your dreams —
Just look: The blood and darkness in a beast
Evolved in us especially to be soul,
And screams for you, just as a soul should scream.
It yearns for service by the mystery priest
And strains for utter absence of control.
We showed you the unfolding of our scream
But really you're so mild that we could die.
Your placid lack of craving makes you seem
Like someone watching clouds pass in the sky.
Are you the one? The one the scream was for
Must be a god — is yours the Voice we miss?
It makes the boundless audible, and more,
Its every word informs us we exist.

~ From the German of Rainer Maria Rilke. This translation copyright © 1998, 2001 by Leonard Cottrell.