too is just a way of living, and however one lives, one can, without knowing, prepare for it; in everything real one is closer to it, more its neighbor, than in the unreal half-artistic professions, which, while they pretend to be close to art, in practice deny and attack the existence of all art - as, for example, all of journalism does and almost all criticism and three quarters of what is called (and wants to be called) literature. i am glad, in a word, that you have overcome the danger of landing in one of those professions, and are solitary and courageous, somewhere in a rugged reality. may the coming year support and strengthen you in that.

　　always

　　yours,

　　r. m. rilke

　　亲爱的开普斯先生，您得知道，我在收到您的来信时有多高兴。您给我带来的真实、生动的消息对我来说又是个好消息。我越想越觉得是这样。因此我急不可待地想要在圣诞前夜写信给您，但是我整个冬天一直在繁忙地工作，这冬日的假期来得这么快，以至于我都没有足够的时间做这最必要的事情了，写作也很少。

　　但是我在假期里经常想到您，想象着您怎样在那空旷的山谷、孤寂的城堡里寂寞地生活，而南边的风肆虐着，似乎要把那些山峦撕成碎片。

　　这寂静一定无边无际，它把声音和行动都吞没了，如果在这样的寂寞中人们能够想到远

上一页  [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] 下一页