Casa Robino

Interiors (Rilke): ewilcox:

Via The Paris Review, sixteen of twenty numbered sections from a piece composed by Rilke in 1898 (when he was 22) and never published in his lifetime.
That’s how it always is. People would sooner weave their dreams deep into the linens than let them grow up next to them into a life without enough sun for them to ripen. When you near your end, you leave your dreams behind in small and seemingly worthless, old-fashioned things, which betray no secrets before they perish in turn. And not because they keep quiet, but because they sing their sentimental songs in a language which no one left alive can understand, for which there is no dictionary and no teacher.