I would like today ... Elizabeth Barrett-Browning English poet 6th March 1806 - 29 June 1861
"Do not let your wings from the sky my thoughts, as they lost out
birds are abandoned helpless."
(Elizabeth Barrett-Browning in a letter
to her husband, Robert Browning) Elizabeth Barrett Browning, photographed in 1859
(photo: public domain )
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love you so deep, so high, as far as my soul
blindly sufficient if it
feeling out of existence and eternity.
I love thee to the most peaceful state,
achieved by each day in the lamplight
or sun. Frei, right, and pure
like those who turn from Praise.
With all the passion of the suffering and time
with childhood power that was gone, since
I lost my beloved Saints.
With all smiles, and all Tränennot
all breath. And if God choose, I will love you
better after death.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning,
translated from English by Rainer Maria Rilke
Elizabeth Barrett-Browning is one of the greatest English poets of the Victorian age, the number was acting of her written works of delicate, almost tender, but they are characterized by deep thoughts
her life marked by many sufferings, in youth was it, it is said, in a riding accident seriously injured at the same time she became ill with tuberculosis, at which point she lived a life as seriously ill, which they, however, held never like this, even on her sick bed for years romantic ballads, poems and sonnets, to write as well as texts within the time
in 1861, died Elizabeth Barrett Browning by a lung disease in Florence, where she lived for many years with her husband and her beloved son, and only at the age of 43 years bare
until her death, she belonged to a circle of artists in which they modified to poetically and politically active was
you, my poet, to move all the power
one on God's supreme and final circle
And out of the universe wide roaring softly
to release song and to lead
Through clear silence. know your medicine related to
an antidote, the force
colander Discontinued still seems puzzling save
Za. God gave you the behest
to do this, just as he commanded me to do
according to your word. What I should be:
of past or coming, that your
singing it or salute it weep?
A shadow that reminds you of palm trees?
A grave, while you rest? - You have a choice.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
translated from English by Rainer
Maria Rilke
of Elves & Miniature Carnival 
In brilliant sunshine on a little 
too long on the Zoch ... 
all the more pleased when he 
