The Panther, by Rainer Maria Rilke

I was walking along for some... brunch and suddenly thought of that poem. No idea why. THAT poem. The one poem that, as a 12-year-old (or so), I chose to memorize. I was never one to do homework, let alone anything I didn't absolutely have to do. But this stuck. And even when I hadn't thought of it for many years I never forgot those words:

Der Panther von Rainer Maria Rilke
Im Tiergarten von Paris

Sein Blick ist vom Vorübergehn der Stäbe
so müd geworden, dass er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
Und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.

Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte,
der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht,
ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte,
in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht.

Nur manchmal hebt der Vorhang der Pupille
sich lautlos auf -. Dann geht ein Blick hinein,
geht durch der Glieder angespannten Stille -
und hört im Herzen auf zu sein.

I realised that I absolutely pity anyone who doesn't understand the true beauty of the original German words. I got back to my computer and just couldn't find a translation that I thought did the piece any justice so here is my attempt (I tried to stay close to the original):

The Panther by Rainer Maria Rilke
In the Zoological Garden of Paris

His gaze has, from the passing of the bars,
gotten so tired that nothing captures it anymore.
To him it is, as if there were a thousand bars
and behind a thousand bars no world.

The soft stride of smooth strong steps,
that spins round in the tiniest circle,
is like a dance of strength around a center,
in which, numbly, a great will stands.

Only sometimes the curtain of the pupil
rises silently. — Then an image enters,
goes through the limbs’ tense silence —
and in the heart ceases to exist.