Where does the word end, where does the essence hide, where does it make itself unreachable for the human mind?
How far can our mind go or is it not better to leave things where they aren’t possible to put into concrete?
Rilke and Rachmaninov are for me both mystics.
Rilke’s descriptions of God in his ‘Book of a Monastic Life’ are some of the most mystic and wonderful poems to me.
Rachmaninov’s music is that too for me. He withdraws from the concrete and leaves to deeper layers of this world.
Let the following texts and music guide you into another world, a mystic one.

Gott spricht zu jedem nur, eh er ihn macht,
dann geht er schweigend mit ihm aus der Nacht.
Aber die Worte, eh jeder beginnt,
diese wolkigen Worte, sind:

Von deinen Sinnen hinausgesandt,
geh bis an deiner Sehnsucht Rand;
gib mir Gewand.

Hinter den Dingen wachse als Brand,
dass ihre Schatten, ausgespannt,
immer mich ganz bedecken.

Lass dir Alles geschehn: Schönheit und Schrecken.
Man muss nur gehn: Kein Gefühl ist das fernste.
Lass dich von mir nicht trennen.
Nah ist das Land,
das sie das Leben nennen.

Du wirst es erkennen
an seinem Ernste.

Gib mir die Hand.


Rainer Maria Rilke

______________________________

God speaks to every one of us before he creates us,
then he walks silently with us out in the night.
The words he speaks, those dim words are:

Sent out from your senses,
go until the limits of your longing;
embody me.

Behind the things grow as fire,
so the shadows always cover me fully.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just go on: No feeling is too far.
Don’t let yourself be separated from me.
Nearby is the country,
they call life.

You will recognize it
by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

translated by me