How far from us everything is,
and long gone.
I think the star whose light
reaches me now
has been dead for thousands of years.
I think I heard
in the boat that went by
something anxious being said.
In a house, a clock
has struck the hour…
In which house?
I would like to go out from my heart
and stand under the great sky.
I would like to pray.
One of all those stars
must surely still live.
I think I used to know
which star may have kept on shining—
which one, like a white city,
rises still at the far end of its light.
Rainer Maria Rilke
