Look at the flowers, so faithful to what is earthly, 

to whom we lend fate from the very border of fate. 

And if they are sad about how they must wither and die,

perhaps it is our vocation to be their regret.

All Things want to fly. Only we are weighed down by desire,

caught in ourselves and enthralled with our heaviness.

—Rilke, from Sonnets to Orpheus, translated by Stephen Mitchell