by Rainer Maria Rilke
Like one who’s voyaged over foreign oceans
am I among these eternally at home;
the full days stand dumbly on their tables,
but to me the far-off is full of dream.
Deep inside my face a world reaches,
which perhaps is uninhabited like a moon;
but they leave no feeling to itself,
and all their words have long been lived in.
The things I brought with me from far away
appear outlandish, compared with theirs–:
in their great homeland they were wild animals,
here they hold their breath out of shame.
You can find this poem in The Book of Images.