my senses tremble

From The Book of Hours - Rainer Maria Rilke

Now the hour bends down and touches me
with its clear, metallic ring:
my senses tremble. The feeling forms: I can--
and I grasp the malleable day.

Nothing was complete before I saw it,
all becoming stood still.
My eyes are ripe, and whatever they desire
approaches like a bride.

Nothing is too small: against a gold background
I paint it large and lovingly
and hold it high, and I will never know
whose soul it may release...