The Gazelle

The Gazelle

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Gazella Dorcas

Enchanted thing: how can two chosen words

ever attain the harmony of pure rhyme

that pulses through you as your body stirs?

Out of your forehead branch and lyre climb

and all your features pass in simile through

the songs of love whose words as light as rose-

petals rest on the face of someone who

has put his book away and shut his eyes:

to see you: tensed as if each leg were a gun

loaded with leaps but not fired while your neck

holds your head still listening: as when

while swimming in some isolated place

a girl hears leaves rustle and turns to look:

the forest pool reflected in her face.