And then that girl the angels came to visit,
she woke also to fruit, frightened by beauty,
given love, shy, in her
so much blossom, the forest,
no one had explored, with paths leading everywhere.
They left her alone to walk and to drift
and the spring carried her along.
Her simple and unselfcentered Mary- life
became marvelous and castlelike.
Her life resembled trumpets on the feast days
that reverberated far inside every house;
and she, once so girlish and fragmented,
was so plunged now inside her womb,
and so full inside from that one thing
and so full – enough for a thousand others—
that every creature seemed to throw light on her
and she was like a slope with vines, heavily bearing.
Rainer Maria Rilke
