| This is for Marda:
Rainer Maria Rilke
Blue Hydrangea
Just like the last green in a colour pot
So are these leaves, withered and wrecked
Behind the flower umbels, which reflect
A hue of blue only, more they do not.
Reflections are tear-stained, inaccurate
As if they were about to cease,
And like old blue notepaper sheets
They wear some yellow, grey and violet
Washed out, like on a children's apron
Outworn and no more in use:
We contemplate a small life's short duration.
But suddenly some new blue is seen
In just one umbel, and we muse
Over a moving blue delighting in the green.
Translated by Guntram Deichsel (the version like best) | 
