The Panther - in the Jardin des Plantes, Paris

The world probably has little need for another translation of this great Rilke poem but tonight I decided to take it out for a turn around the dance floor.  No better way to understand a poem than to translate it ....

Constantly circling

Passing bars back and forth

His vision grows bleary

Held by each of the ten

Thousand bars passing

While beyond them

Nothing more

Retracing his steps

Over and over again

With deliberate stride

Pads landing softly

Confined to this pattern

As in a ritual dance
Circling the center

 Never once advancing

His great will dazed

Albeit some times

The film quietly lifts

From his eyes and then

Like an image transfixed

His body tenses in silence

As he listens to the beating 

Of his being's very heart

In case you enjoyed this, here's another translation of a poem from Rilke's menagerie -- this one about a swan.