The Panther

Rainer Maria Rilke

His gaze has grown so tired from passing by the bars
that it holds nothing anymore.
It seems to him as if there are a thousand bars,
and behind a thousand bars, no world.

The soft, smooth stride of powerful steps,
that turns in the smallest circle,
is like a dance of strength around a center,
in which a great, numbed will stands.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupil
silently lifts —. Then, an image enters,
goes through the tense stillness of the limbs —
and ceases to exist in the heart.