A Quote by Rainer Maria Rilke on love and poetry

No, we don't accomplish our love in a single year
as the flowers do; an immemorial sap
flows up through our arms when we love. Dear girl,
this: that we loved, inside us, not One who would someday appear, but
seething multitudes; not just a single child,
but also the fathers lying in our depths
like fallen mountains; also the dried-up riverbeds
of ancient mothers-;also the whole
soundless landscape under the clouded or clear
sky of its destiny -; all this, my dear, preceded you.