English poetry

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Little Tear-Vase

Other vessels hold wine, other vessels hold oil
Inside the hollowed-out vault circumscribed by their clay.
I, as smaller measure, and as the slimmest of all,
Humbly hollow myself so that just a few tears can fill me.

Wine becomes richer, oil becomes clear, in its vessel.
What happens with tears?-They made me blind in my
glass,
Made me heavy and made my curve iridescent,
Made me brittle, and left me empty at last.


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Poem Little Tear-Vase - Rainer Maria Rilke