Blue Hydrangea

Rainer Maria Rilke

Just like the last green in a colour pot

So are these leaves, withered and wrecked

Behind the flower umbels, which reflect

A hue of blue only, more they do not.

Reflections are tear-stained, inaccurate,

As if they were about to cease,

And like old blue notepaper sheets

They wear some yellow, grey and violet,

Washed-out like on a children's apron,

Outworn and now no more in use:

We contemplate a small life's short duration.

But suddenly some new blue seemingly is seen 

In just one umbel, and we muse

Over a moving blue delighting in the green.

Translation © by Guntram Deichsel, 2003-12-03