“Nobody can help you,” Rilke tells Kappus. But with Kappus he maintained the stance of a mentor, glossing over his own struggles (which the Chronicle narrates), and conveying always the same amiable, wise equanimity. The Letters and the accompanying chronicle suggest frequent changes of location, illness and malaise, interest in a range of projects, some unfinished, and trouble settling into a routine. He had already published several volumes of writing, travelled widely, befriended other artists and patrons, and was engaged in works of translation and biography. Besides, Rilke refused from beginning to end to offer anything like a concrete solution – offering, instead, sensitive but general spiritual guidance.ĭuring this period, Rilke was himself undergoing enormous changes. Letters contains only Rilke’s poets to Kappus’s, but from these we can infer enough about the ongoing difficulties on which Kappus sought advice. They exchanged letters for the next several years, a period eventful in both Kappus’s life and Rilke’s. Struggling with doubts about his military career, and longing for critiques of his worn work, he wrote to Rilke. In 1902, a student at an Austrian military academy discovered that the emerging poet Rilke, whose work he admired, was an alumnus of the same academy. Letters has a salutarily sedative effect. I tend to speed through things in general – one reason I can’t read poetry – and I expect that periodical rereading of Letters will have the same effect on me as a brief session of meditation does, when I remember to do it. Though written in Rilke’s thirties, every thought reads like the outcome of prolonged deliberation and a mature outlook on life, expressed succinctly and lyrically. This tiny collection of ten letters from Rilke, prefaced by a chronicle of the years during which he wrote it – the chronicle peppered with excerpts from Rilke’s letters to other correspondents – is endlessly quotable. I sped through the book, then went back to reread it – apt, given that Rilke’s central message is to slow down. I don’t read poetry I read Letters To A Young Poet on the recommendation of a fellow writer who’s primarily a poet.

A letter to young poet