An Annunciation Poem by Rainier Maria Rilke

Not that an angel entered (mark this)
was she startled. Little as other start
when a ray of sun or the moon by night
busies itself about their room,
would she have been disturbed by the shape
in which an angel went;
she scarcely guessed that this sojourn
is irksome for angels.

O if we knew how pure she was.
Did not a hind, that recumbent once espied her in the wood
So lose itself in looking that in it
quite without pairing
The unicorn begot itself!
The creature of light
The pure creature.

Not that he entered, but that he,
the angel, so bent close to her
a youth’s face that his gaze and that
with which she looked up struck together,
as though outside it were suddenly all empty
and what millions saw, did, bore,
were crowded into them: just she and he;
seeing and what is seen, eye and
eye’s delight
nowhere else save at this spot--lo;
this is startling. And they were
startled both.
Then the angel sang his melody.



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