The House

I live in a house that tells no lies— Its corners soften with ivy, Each room breathes with echoes of stories, While the echoes of nature hang low.

The walls hold memories tightly, Of rain and sun slipping through, And the windows sing their stories, Of the wind pushing and pulling freely.

With every day that passes its age, My heart calms in this steadfast shelter, Where leaves cling to spaces, Of remembrance and silence, This house befriends me, waits patiently— While life’s currents flow past beyond its gate.

• Rainer Maria Rilke