From a Childhood by Rainer Maria Rilke

From a Childhood

The darkening was like treasures in the room

in which the boy, so deeply hidden, sat.

And when as in a dream his mother entered,

a glass shook on the silent shelf.

She felt how the room was giving her away,

and kissed her boy: So, you’re here?…

Then both gazed fearfully toward the piano,

for many an evening she would play a song

in which the child got strangely, deeply caught.

He sat stock-still. His wide gaze hung

on her hand, which, weighed down by the ring,

as if it were walking in deep snow,

wandered across the white keys.

(Translated by Edward Snow)