Sonnets To Orpheus I, 7

Praise, that's it! One called to profess praise, he emerged like ore from the stone's silence. His heart, oh ephemeral press that yields unto men unending wines. When he is gripped by that god-like standard, not even dust can choke his mouth. All becomes grapes, all becomes vineyard, ripened in his sensuous south. Even mould in the crypts of kings can't give the lie to his praisings, nor that from the gods a shadow falls. He's the lone enduring messenger who reaches deep into death's door offering glorious fruit in bowls.

Rühmen, das ists! Ein zum Rühmen Bestellter, ging er hervor wie das Erz aus des Steins Schweigen. Sein Herz, o vergängliche Kelter, eines den Menschen unendlichen Weins. Nie versagt ihm die Stimme am Staube, wenn ihn das göttliche Beispiel ergreift. Alles wird Weinberg, alles wird Traube, in seinen fühlenden Süden gereift. Nicht in den Grüften der Könige Moder straft ihm die Rühmung Lügen, oder daß von den Göttern ein Schatten fällt. Er ist einer der bleibenden Boten, der noch weit in die Türen des Toten Schalen mit rühmliche Früchten hält.

Translation notes:

Connection from previous sonnet:

Praise.

Line 12: "einer"

More literally, "He's one of the remaining messengers who still ...". This is one of the few places where I changed Rilke's meaning on purpose. "Lone" just felt right, I can't explain why. Possibly because the original raises the question: "Who are the others?"?

Line 14: "rühmliche Früchten"

Perhaps more literally "praiseworthy fruit". The full glory of fruit will be explored in I,13, I,14, and I,15.