How shall I keep my soul
from touching yours? How shall I
lift it out beyond you toward other things?
Ah, I would like to lodge it
in the dark with some lost thing
in some silent foreign place
that doesn't tremble when your depths stir.
Yes whatever touches you and me
blends us together just as a bow's stroke
from two strings draws one voice.
Across what instrument are we stretched taut?
And what player holds us in his hand?
O sweet song.
-- Rainer Maria Rilke