Author Rainer Maria Rilke The future: time's excuse to frighten us; too vast a project, too large a morsel for the heart's mouth. Future, who won't wait for you? Everyone is going there. It suffices you to deepen the absence that we are. Translated by A. Poulin Tags future time heart Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments