by Rainer Maria Rilke (a new translation)
This toil through life as yet undone
is hard; we move with ropes around
us like the artless waddle of the swan
and then death and the letting go
of a life of walking on the ground
is the swan nervously slipping in
to a water that receives him gently,
happily taking what has passed
from under him, wave by wave,
while the swan, with perfect peace and calm,
becomes forthright and regal
upon the water, rested and relaxed.
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