The Panther

(translation of Der Panther by Rainer Maria Rilke)

No more can he take in, his hooded eyes

tire of looking out through iron bars;

he lives within a thousand other cages,

the outside world no longer leaves its scars.

He turns in the tightest narrow circle,

paces with a smooth, strong, supple gait,

like a dance of power around a centre

where lies benumbed some greater will in wait.

At times the outer world may enter him,

when soundlessly the curtain o’er his eye

lifts; some image floods the tension of his limbs

and ceases in his untamed heart to lie.

©Terry Hodgson2020