In the quiet dawn, where thoughts intertwine,
Rilke’s whispers linger, soft and divine.
His words, a tapestry of life’s gentle flow,
Through shadows and light, his essence we know.

Amid the solitude, where reflections reside,
He found the soul’s secrets, no longer to hide.
Each verse a mirror, each line a door,
To the depths of existence, we explore more.

Through the echoes of time, his spirit remains,
A poet’s heart, free from earthly chains.
His life, a symphony of silent cries,
In the realm of dreams, his legacy flies.

As the sun sets, and stars softly gleam,
We are reminded of Rilke’s endless dream.
His journey, a beacon, guiding our sight,
Through the darkest night, into the light.