The Swan

This is my translation of a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke, which my mother said is one of her favorite poems.  But more precisely, since I don't read German, I based my translation on a prior translation (which my mother gave me) by Joanna Macy.  Until I read this poem (in Macy's translation), I never particularly much liked or understood Rilke.  But Macy has given me a much better appreciation for Rilke's incredible talents, which here I have tried to restate in a style more of my own.

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We labor away

With all that remains undone

Everything that weighs us down

Much as a waddling swan

Approaches the water

And when we die

The very ground seems to

Give way underneath us

Just as the swan delivers itself

Hesitant but gracefully

Onto the water’s surface

Which yields as it flows all around

Ripple after ripple

While the swan

Now altogether calm and secure

And with regal bearing

Glides forward serenely