"I have my dead and I have let them go
and been surprised, to see them so consoled,
so soon at home in death, just right this way,
so unlike what we hear. Only you, you come
back; you brush against me, you move about, you want
to knock into things, to make them sound of you
and tell me you’re here. Oh don’t take away what
I’m slowly learning. For I’m right; you’re mistaken
if, looking back, you feel homesickness
for any thing here. We transform it,
it isn’t here, we mirror it into us,
out of existence, the moment we can see it."

Rainer Maria Rilke, from Requiem for a Friend, translated by Galway Kinnell

(via fuckyeahrainermariarilke)

Source: google.com via LB on Pinterest
detail from Portrait of a Princess of the House of Este, Pisanello (1395-1455)

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