The leaves are falling, as though from far away,
as if withered in the distant gardens of heaven.
They tumble with a gesture of negation.
And in the nights, the heavy earth
drops from the stars into desolation.
We all are falling. Look, my own hand falls.
And the hands of others too: it is in us all.
And yet there is one who holds the fall completely.
It falls into his hands, unendingly and sweetly.
Rainer Maria RilkeTranslated from German by Paul Weinfield, © 2014