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Her gaze, going past those bars, has got so misted
with tiredness, it can take in nothing more.
She feels as though a thousand bars existed,
and no more world beyond them than before.

Those supply powerful paddings, turning there
in tiniest of circles, well might be
the dance of forces round a center where
some mighty will stands paralyticly.

Just now and then the pupils’ noiseless shutter
is lifted. – Then an image will indart,
down through the limbs’ intensive stillness flutter,
and end its being in the heart.

[Rainer Maria Rilke]

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