kulturbrille:amanuensis

The Drunkard’s Song
Rilke

It wasn’t in me. It went out and in.
I wanted to hold it. It held, with Wine.
(I no longer know what it was.)
Then Wine held this and held that for me
till I came to depend on him totally.
Like an ass.

Now I’m playing his game and he deals me out
with a sneer on his lips, and maybe tonight
he will lose me to Death, that boor.
When he wins me, filthiest card in the deck,
he’ll take me and scratch the scabs on his neck,
then toss me into the mire.

Thank you, and I am glad.

There is no better gift than to learn that I am to be saved in the new year, when I will teach students more than facts and knowledge. Now, I am finally beginning to feel like a teacher, even if I will be struggling and floundering. An excellent choice, so many years ago. And, even though there are still regrets and fears, and hurt, for once, the days stretching ahead of me are full of hope, excitement, possibility, etc. I am doubly glad.