this is a part of a poem called The book of Monk by Rilke, which is one of my favorites of all times
I love my life's dark hours
In which my senses quicken and grow deep,
While, as from faint incense of faded flowers
Or letters old, I magically steep
Myself in days gone by: again I give
Myself unto the past:—again I live.
Out of my dark hours, wisdom dawns apace,
Infinite Life unrolls its boundless space . .
I love my life's dark hours
In which my senses quicken and grow deep,
While, as from faint incense of faded flowers
Or letters old, I magically steep
Myself in days gone by: again I give
Myself unto the past:—again I live.
Out of my dark hours, wisdom dawns apace,
Infinite Life unrolls its boundless space . .
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