[136] The Panther

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tense, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

    -- Rainer Maria Rilke

translated by Steven Mitchell.

I haven't read much of Rilke, but the little I have read always strikes
me by its quality of - how shall I put it? - 'muscular delicacy', I
suppose. There's a lean grace about his words, an efficiency of
expression which comes through even in translation. Certainly there's
beauty in his writing, but it's not an ornate beauty, nor even a
particularly striking one; rather, it's a beauty of minimalism and
feeling (yes, feeling) stripped down to the bare bones... "every word
chosen smooth and well-fitting", to paraphrase Pound.

I chose today's poem because the image of the panther seems to be embody
many of the prosodic qualities of Rilke's own work (though not
necessarily his themes). (Yup, it's that old form versus content thing
again. One of these days I have to get down to writing a proper essay on
the subject :-)). There's the same sense of barely restrained tautness,
of supple strength matched with unhurried elegance...

Another thing I like about this poem is the sudden shift in its pace; in
the first  two stanzas, the words seem, if not quite languid, then at
least deliberate in their slow grace. But in the third stanza the vision
alters [1], suddenly blurring into sheer speed. You've heard of big cats
as 'poetry in motion'; here, Rilke captures their motion in his poetry.

thomas.

[1] "Suddenly, the vision alters
The music fades, the rhythm falters"
:-)

[Biography]

Geboren am 4.12.1875 in Prag. Rilke war der Sohn eines Militärbeamten
und Beamten bei der Eisenbahn. Besuchte die Militärschule St. Pölten
1886 bis 1891 und danach die Militär-Oberrealschule in
Mährisch-Weißkirchen. Der sensible Knabe wich der Offizierslaufbahn aus,
bereitete sich privat auf das Abitur vor und studierte Kunst- und
Literaturgeschichte in Prag, München und Berlin. 1897 Begegnung mit Lou
Andreas-Salomé, mit der er 1899/1900 nach Rußland reiste. Das Land, die
Menschen, vor allem die »russische Seele« beeindruckten ihn sehr.
Begegnung mit Tolstoi. 1900 ließ er sich in der Malerkolonie Worpswede
nieder und heiratete die Bildhauerin Clara Westhoff, von der er sich
1902 wieder trennte. 1905 wurde er für acht Monate der Privatsekretär
von Rodin in Paris. Reisen nach Nordafrika, Ägypten, Spanien. 1911/12
lebte er auf Schloß Duino an der Adria bei der Fürstin Marie v. Thurn u.
Taxis. Im 1. Weltkrieg in München; kurze Zeit beim österreichischen
Landsturm; aus Gesundheitsgründen entlassen. Nach Kriegsende in der
Schweiz: 1920 in Berg am Irschel, seit 1921 auf Schloß Muzot im Kanton
Wallis, das ihm sein Mäzen Werner Reinhart zur Verfügung gestellt hatte.
Er starb am 29.12.1926 im Sanatorium Val-Mont bei Montreux an Leukämie.

From: PrImEsUsPeCt004@

i have a essay im doing on this poem , i need to know what do you feel is the 
conflict or problem here?
i was suggesting the effects of animals in captivity, and what it does to 
them?
other people see it differently? like lab testing is wrong, i know this deals 
with it but is it the center of the poem or what please give me your opinion 
-thanks  
laura,,,   my email is   - fairyfly1819@

From: Julian Holman <j.c.holman@>

dear Laura
you poor thing, having to write about poems, instead of just reading
them, again and again, and saying them aloud (this one sounds great in
german), especially as you are walking or doing some work like raking
leaves. Or maybe the ideal time to say this poem is when you feel like
the panther, when your whole world is just a cage, and all your strength
and cunning and vitality are made impotent.

if I was the teacher i'd say, look you guys, this man Rilke went to the
zoo, and he had this experience looking at the big cats in cages. he
tried to describe the experience, so that someone reading what he wrote
would have a part of the experience too. period. Now I want you to think
of an experience that has stuck in your mind and try and describe it, so
that someone reading what you wrote might have a part of your experience
too. write it anyway you want, but try and make it short  (make every
word count) - try and get to the essense of what it was,  and put that
in words. if it becomes a poem, fine; if it stays prose, also fine, but
it should be short and pack a punch, like the experience itself must
have (or how else would you have remembered it?!). I would also say
'writing like this, finding just the words you want to use,  is a
struggle:  do it for the pleasure of struggling with words, not as a
chore
love Julian