Chapter 5 5. The third letter

Dear Sir, your Easter letter gave me much joy; for it told me much good news about you, and as your opinion of Jacobsen's great and lovely art attests, I I have done nothing wrong in bringing your life and many of your life's problems into this rich world. Now is the time for you to read Neil Lawnet, a magnificent and profound book; the more you read the more it seems that everything is in it, from the lightest fragrance of life to the richness of its heavy fruit.There is nothing here that we cannot understand, comprehend, experience, and intimately know in the aftertaste of memory; there is no experience that is too small, even the development of a very small event is like a big destiny, and Destiny itself is like a strange vast fabric, each thread drawn by a hand of infinite tenderness, laid beside another, and a thousand balance each other.You are about to have the great bliss of reading this book for the first time, through countless unexpected surprises as if in a new dream.But I can tell you that we will always be amazed when we read these books, that they will never lose their charm, not even the fairy-tale realm they first gave the reader.

We only enjoy more and more in those books, appreciate more and more, observe more clearly and simply, believe in life more deeply, and live more happily and broadly. —then you will read that wonderful book describing the fate and aspirations of Mrs. Mary Gruber, and Jacobson's letters, diaries, fragments, and finally his poems (even if they are mediocre. German translation), also has its own indelible rhyme (at this time, I would like to advise you, if you have the opportunity, you can buy a complete work of Jakobsen, everything is in it. There are three volumes, the translation is very good, Leipzig Published by Eugen Diederichs bookstore, as far as I know, each volume only sells for five or six marks).

Regarding the very delicate and concise short story "There should be roses...", you are really right about the different opinions on the preface.By the way, I advise you to read as little as possible the texts of aesthetic criticism—most of them are prejudices, which have been frozen in lifeless hardening and are meaningless; It's the opposite faction again.Works of art are all derived from infinite loneliness, and there is nothing more marginal than criticism.Only love can understand them, hold them, and realize their value. —with each such explanation, comment, or introduction, be mindful of yourself and your feelings; and if you are wrong, the natural growth of your inner life will slowly and always make you realize your error, You lead to another road.Let your judgment develop silently, and that development, like every progress, comes from deep within, and can neither be forced nor urged.Everything happens in time.Let each impression and the germ of an emotion be accomplished within oneself, in the dark, where the ineffable, the unconscious, the inaccessible to personal understanding.Look forward to a new moment of sudden understanding with deep humility and patience: this is the artistic life, whether it is understanding or creation, it is the same.

Time cannot be counted, years and months are useless, and even ten years are sometimes equal to nothingness.An artist is: not counting, not counting; mature like a tree, not forcing its juice, standing confidently in the storm of spring, not worrying that there will be no summer behind.Summer will come after all.But it comes only to the patient; and they are here, as if eternity were always before them, silent and vast, carefree.I learn every day, in the pain of which I am grateful: "Patience" is everything! As for Richard Demer: his book (and also the man, whom I know in a general way), I think that whenever I read a good page of his poetry, I often I am afraid that after reading the second page, I will destroy everything in the front and make the cuteness dull.You portrayed his character rightly: "Live with lust, create with passion."—In fact, the artist's experience is so inconceivably close to the experience of sex, close to its pain and its pleasure, these two phenomena Originally just different forms of the same longing and happiness.If it were possible to speak not of "lust" but of "sex," in the sense of the vast, pure, and not denigrated by the falsehoods of the Church, then perhaps his art would be vast and permanent. very important.The power of his poet is broad, strong like a primitive impulse, and there is a courageous rhythm bursting out from within himself like a majestic mountain.

But it seems to me that the attempt is not always entirely blunt and pretentious (this is indeed a severe test for the creator, who must never be conscious, unaware of his best virtues, if he is to preserve the natural and chaotic state of that virtue).Now the force that agitates his nature moves towards sex, but it does not find the pure man it needs.There is no mature and pure sexual world there, only a world that lacks a broad "humanity" and is limited to "men", full of lust, intoxication and restlessness, burdened by men's old prejudices and arrogant hearts, Make love lose its original face.Because he only loves as a man, not as a human being, there are some narrowness, roughness, hatred, and impermanence in his emotional feelings, which have no permanent elements, which reduce the value of art and make art obscure.Such art is not without taint, it is colored by the times and passions, and seldom lasts (as most art does).Although, we can also enjoy some of the excellent places, but don't get lost and become believers in Demer's world; his world is so troublesome, full of adultery, confusion, and distance from the real destiny. Too far; the real destiny makes more pain than these temporary melancholy, but also gives more chance to greatness, more courage to eternity.

Finally about my books, I'd love to give you a whole copy of whatever you like.But I'm poor, and my book doesn't belong to me when it's published.I can't buy them myself, although I often want to give them away to people who can show interest in my books. So I write to you on a separate sheet the titles of my most recent books and the bookstores where they were published (only the most recent ones; if you count the previous ones, there are twelve or three), dear sir, I give you this book list. You can order whatever you want when you get the chance. I would like my book to be by your side.

treasure! Yours: Rene Maria Rilke 1903, 4, 23; Italy, Pisa, Guarejue ① Refers to Jacobson's novel "Mrs. Mary Grubbe" (Frau Marie Grubbe). ② Richard Dehmcl (Richard Dehmcl, 1863-1920), a German poet, was famous at that time.