IV {from Sonnets to Orpheus}

O this is the creature that does not exist.
They knew nothing and yet without a doubt
His gait, his posture, his neck, down
to the silent light of his gaze they had loved.

Indeed, it wasn't real. But because they loved,
it became a pure animal. Always, they gave it space.
And in that space, clear and spare
it raised lightly its head and needed scarcely

to be. They nourished it not with grain,
but with only the possibility that it truly was.
And this gave such strength to the animal
that it grew a horn from its brow. But one horn.
It passed in its whiteness a young maiden
and appeared in the silver mirror, and in her.

by Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)