(as if through some unfathomable law)
transposed, in those blank depths it lies, defined,
as though life there were of a wonted kind;
hugely the luminous gardens hang, enshrined,
and suddenly the dance coils there, behind
the lighted windows of the hostelries.
And overhead?—The silence, indolent,
leans, slowly crushing sweetness on her tongue:
grape upon fragrant grape, from luculent
clusters of chimes in the far heavens hung.
Rainer Maria Rilke
about Bruges
