The Rose Within (translation of a poem by Rilke)

The Rose Within

Where lies the interior

Of this outward display?

Over what ache spreads

Such a fine linen?

And what skies gleam

Above the inner seas

As the petals open,

So carefree, if you’ll

But look and see:

Looseness is the solution

In which they lie,

Yet unshakeable

By a trembling hand.

By dint of what effort

Holding themselves erect;

So much overflowing

And pouring out from

Daylight’s interior,

Always fuller and fuller

To their fullest extent,

Until the whole summer

Enfolds within a room

A room within a dream

Reply to Rilke

If a rose unfolding

Is a sign of the soul

There’s no inner withholding

That any true flower knows

It’s all in the baring as 

Each blossom grows

And the effortless giving of

What transparently shows

After a certain point, it's not quite enough to translate a poem; rather I find myself drawn into dialog.  For me this is particularly true with Rilke, whose ardency as a poet I greatly admire, but find myself not always completely aligned with in spirit.  As a bonus, I want to share with you a translation of a poem by Bai Juyi, one of my favorite Tang poets, on a similar theme:

Flower Without Flower

Flower without flower
Mist without mist
At midnight arriving
As Heaven's light dims

Dream of springtime fresh
But how long will it remain
A cloud lingers until dawn
Then disperses without a trace

花非花
花非花
雾非雾
夜半来
天明去
来如春
梦不多时
去似朝云
无觅处