The translation isn't quite there? Sure, I am trampling through one of God's quiet gardens, where even angels fear to tread. But then, those "deadly birds of the soul" (Second Duino Elegy) are too preoccupied - perhaps with thoughts of sin, as Rilke titillates - to strike me down. Or they deign to ignore me. Power obliges, and absolute power obliges absolutely. Go and do likewise, the Good Book tells them.
Anglophones have taken a particular liking to the late Rilke's major work, the Duineser Elegien and, there, Angels play a major part right from the first line:
"Wer, wenn ich schriee, hörte mich denn aus der Engel Ordnungen?"
(Who from the hierarchies of Angels would deign to hear me [tumbling down the cliffs of Duino] ?)
But, no, I don't think it is the presence of Angels that makes Americans admire the Duino Elegies, nor is it the presence of the young Dead. I think it's the Americans' desire for mysterious insights, for secret messages, for esoteric teachings. Sort of balances the lure of the bank account and spiritualizes the conversation. Duino on the tube.
And some of Rilke - though at the highest level of poetry, mind you - do remind me a bit of Amerigo Vespucci's activities. "Du mußt Dein Leben ändern" (you must change your life) run the last words from one of his most admired poems, Archaischer Torso Apollos (The Archaic Torso of Apollo).
Rilke's DIY comes packaged in glittering poetic language. Some of that - e.g., the metaphors and similes - can be translated. The music of his language, on the other hand...
And, to me, it is the music that makes a Rilke poem. The medium IS the message, as a famous Canadian said. Have a look at this angelic one. What would you rather experience, a resonance of the Angels' silent presence and tempest of their wings, or a description how these birds manage to flutter round the Creator?
Right you are: It's all a question of language. His, yours, mine...
