It is striking how much more I appreciate romantic poetry now that I am really in love. Here’s a poem from one of my favorite poets, Rainer Maria Rilke, who penned this in the early twentieth century (originally, and beautifully, in German).
How shall I withhold my soul so that
it does not touch on yours? How shall I
uplift it over you to other things?
Ah willingly would I by some
lost thing in the dark give it harbor
in an unfamiliar silent place
that does not vibrate on when your depths vibrate.
Yet everything that touches us, you and me,
takes us together as a bow’s stroke does,
that out of two strings draws a single voice.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what player has us in his hand?
O sweet song. [emphasis mine]
Mmmm. Isn’t that just beautiful? …out of two strings draws a single voice. Upon what instrument are we two spanned? And what player has us in His hand?