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 hats, 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 tense, arrested muscles,

plunges into the heart and is gone.

﹝奥地利﹞里尔克（Rainer Maria Rilke）