The Panther


Subject: The Panther
From: Paul Miller (phm@midsouth.rr.com)
Date: Sat Mar 04 2000 - 13:21:31 EST


His tired gaze -from passing endless bars-
has turned into a vacant stare which nothing holds.
To him there seem to be a thousand bars,
and out beyond these bars exists no world.
His supple gait, the smoothness of strong strides
that gently turn in ever smaller circles
perform a dance of strength, centered deep within
a will, stunned, but untamed, indomitable.
But sometimes the curtains of his eyelids part,
the pupils of his eyes dilate as images
of past encounters enter while through his limbsa tension strains in silence
only to cease to be, to die within his heart.

Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
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His gaze is from the passing of bars
so exhausted, that it doesn't hold a thing anymore.
For him, it's as if there were thousands of bars
and behind the thousands of bars no world.

The sure stride of lithe, powerful steps,
that around the smallest of circles turns ,
is like a dance of pure energy about a center,
in which a great will stands numbed.

Only occasionally, without a sound, do the covers
of the eyes slide open —. An image rushes in,
goes through the tensed silence of the frame—
only to vanish, forever, in the heart.

Translation by Cliff Crego
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1. From seeing the bars, his seeing is so exhausted
2. that it no longer holds anything anymore.
3. To him the world is bars, a hundred thousand
4. bars, and behind the bars, nothing.

5. The lithe swinging of that rhythmical easy stride
6. which circles down to the tiniest hub
7. is like a dance of energy around a point
8. in which a great will stands stunned and numb.

9. Only at times the curtains of the pupil rise
10. without a sound . . . then a shape enters,
11. slips though the tightened silence of the shoulders,
12. reaches the heart, and dies.

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Passing back and forth the bars his gaze is grown so weary that it doesn't
grasp anything any more. To him it's as if there were a thousand bars and
behind the thousand bars, no world.

The supple gait of easy, strong steps, turning round in the narrowest
circle, is like a dance of power around a center where a great will stands
stolid.

Just once in a while the curtain of the pupils lifts silently--. Then an
image enters and passes through the tense stillness of the limbs--and fades
when it reaches the heart.
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The bars have sucked his glance so dry of raging,
So wearied it with their recurrent wall,
That he sees from his unassuaging caging
But for these thousand bars no world at all.

The soft rhyth of that flexible strong pacing
To an infinitesimal circled tied
Is as a dance about a center racing
At which a mighty will stands petrified.

Only from time to time the pupil's curain
Is lifted. Then an image silently
Glides through the tension of those limbs uncertain
And ceases in the heart to be.

Translated by Ludwig Lewisohn

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His sight, from glancing back and forth across the bars
Has grown so weary it catches nothing more.
It is to him as if there were a thousand bars,
Beyond those thousand bars no world.

The soft gait of supple-strong strides
That turns about the very smallest circle
Is like a dance of power about a center
I which, benumbed, a great will stands.

Yet--sometimes--the shade over the pupil
Slides soundlessly up--. An image enters,
Travels the tense stillness of his limbs,
Then ceases in the heart to be.

Translated by James L. Dana
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--

His gaze has been so worn by the procession

Of bars that it no longer makes a bond.

Around, a thousand bars seem to be flashing,

And in their flashing show no world beyond.

The lissom steps which round out and re-enter

That tightest circuit of their turning drill

Are like a dance of strength about a center

Wherein there stands benumbed a mighty will.

Only from time to time the pupil's shutter

Will draw apart: an image enters then,

To travel through the tautened body's utter

Stillness -- and in the heart to end. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------

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 tensed, arrested muscles, plunges into the heart and is gone

Translated by Stephen Mitchell. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------

Sein Blick ist vomVorübergehn der Stäbe so müd geworden, daß er nichts mehr hält. Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.

Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte, der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht, ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte, in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht.

Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille sich lautlos auf—. Dann geht ein Bild hinein, geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille— und hört im Herzen auf zu sein.

Rainer Maria Rilke

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