(27 April 2025)
(3 224 words)
Rilke wrote “The Panther”, subtitled “In Jardin des Plantes”, between 1902 and 1903 in Paris, and published it in New Poems (Neue Gedichte) in 1907. The “Jardin des Plantes” (“Garden of Plants”, just south of the river Seine in the centre of Paris) included a small zoo, in which a panther was caged, and which Rilke saw during his many visits to the Garden. The poem has three stanzas, each with four lines of alternating feminine and masculine endings, and is written largely in dactylic metre:
a
“Sein Blick ist von Vorübergehen der Stäbe
so müd geworden, dass er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.
b
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.
c
Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille
sich lautlos auf -. Dann geht ein Bild hinein,
geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille –
und hört im Herzen auf zu sein”.
.
I will consider five noted translations by:
Stephen Mitchell, The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke (Vintage Books: 1984).
J. B. Leishman, Rainer Maria Rilke: Selected Poems (Penguin: 1964).
C.F. MacIntyre, Rilke: Selected Poems (University of California Press: 1958).
Susan Ranson / Marielle Sutherland, Rainer Maria Rilke: Selected Poems (Oxford UP: 2011).
Edward Snow, Rainer Maria Rilke: New Poems (New York: 2001).
.
The first stanza of the German text reads:
“Sein Blick ist von Vorübergehen der Stäbe
so müd geworden, dass er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt”.
.
The translations are:
“His gaze those bars keep passing is so misted
with tiredness, it can take in nothing more.
He feels as though a thousand bars existed,
and no more world beyond them before.”
(Leishman)
“His sight from ever gazing through the bars
has grown so blunt that it sees nothing more.
It seems to him that thousand of bars are
before him, and behind him nothing merely”.
(C.F. MacIntyre)
“His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars no world”
(Mitchell)
“His eyes have grown so tired with the passing
of bars that their reservoirs can hold
no more. There seems a thousand bars, and in
the drowse beyond a thousand bars no world”.
(Ranson / Sutherland)
“His gaze has from the passing of the bars
grown so tired, that it holds nothing any more.
It seems to him there are a thousand bars
and behind a thousand bars no world”.
(Snow)
In its genre, “The Panther” is paradigmatic of the Dingedicht, a type of poem that possessed a strict focus on things in the external world and eschewed emotion or any form of subjectivity, both in its subject matter and in the poetic voice. The Dinggedicht grew out of Rilke’s developing aesthetic and his concern with shaping the viewing image. One immediate influence was the work of Auguste Rodin, on whom Rilke was writing a book. Rilke saw in Rodin a perfection of form, “its sacred being-stone that distinguishes it”, as he wrote in one of his diaries, “from fleeting forms and errant gestures” (Rilke, Schmargendorf diary 16 September 1900), adding “and this is one of the most superb qualities of Rodin’s sculptures – that they always remain within this untransgressable magic circle”. As he wrote to Andreas-Salomé on 8 August 1903 (in lines that anticpate the main theme of “The Panther”), “what he gazes at and surrounds with gazing is always for him the only thing, the present thing, the one world in which everything happens”. Rilke’s Dinggedichte, as evident in poems such as “Buddha” and “The Window Rose” (both from New Poems, 1907), grew out of this focused aesthetic. As has been observed, Rilke “emphasised the connection to the things of the world – as one thing among many – but also a heightening of them, a transposition out of chance and obscurity, out of the changefulness of time into space” (Charlie Louth, Rilke: The Life of the Work. Oxford UP: 2020, p. 105.) In spite of its novel perspectivism, the language of the Dinggedicht tended to the immediate and the tactile, and for that reason we should stay as close as we can in translating to the vocabulary of tangibility.
The second word of the stanza presents us with the initial translating choice. “Blick” is a noun formed from the verb “blicken”, which simply means “to look” (one of the main themes of the poem) and immediately broaches here the notion of perception. “Vision” (Mitchell) can, indeed, convert into “Blick” (as in, “because of the poor weather conditions the pilot had poor vision”), but “vision” also has connotations of the “visionary”, of a special, even transcendental type of looking (the poem, however, is about the impossibility of transcendence). Simpler alternatives are “sight” (MacIntyre), “gaze” (Leishman and Snow) or, metonymically, “eyes” (Ranson / Sutherland).
A more serious translating issue arises with “von Vorübergehen der Stäbe”. The theme of the poem is captivity. On a formal level the recurring umlauts (the pinched “ä”, in particular, linked to the repetition of “tausend Stäbe”) suggest the closed finality of the panther’s plight, whilst the enjambments (here as elsewhere) impart a logical flow to the inexorability of its predicament. Mitchell makes the bars the subject of this phrase, as in “the constantly passing bars”, and this formation informs the remaining translations, except that of Leishman. It is, however, not the bars that are constantly passing but the panther, and this must be communicated in translation, as in, for example, “as it passes the bars”. It is a routine exercise that has deadened the visual sensibility of the panther, whose “gaze” or “sight” has become “müd” (the final “e” being omitted for metrical reasons). The obvious translations are simply “tired” or “weary” (“blunt”, as in MacIntyre, and “misted”, Leishman, are overstatements). Describing the eyes as “reservoirs” (Ranson / Sutherland) is an unusual metaphor that is not warranted by the text, and the same might be said of their use of the word “drowse” two lines later. The latter seems to apply to a vague existential somnolent state beyond the bars. There is nothing in the poem that justifies the evocation of such a state.
The panther feels that it is trapped in an enclosure that has no clear demarcation or end, and that even if it were able to penetrate the line of immediate bars there would still be further bars to hinder its free grasp of the world, because “hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt”. The language of the line is simple (as is the language throughout the poem, poised and sufficient unto itself,) and unproblematically translates into “and behind [these] thousand bars, no world”. Two of the translators disagree, preferring instead the mysterious “behind him nothing really” (MacIntyre) and “no more world beyond them before” (Leishman), both of which are ungainly and border on the absurd. Leishman’s translation demonstrates, in fact, the dangers of trying to retain Rilke’s rhyming scheme in English (“before” / “more”). The latter may be possible, but it runs the risk of an inappropriate bending of the sense of the text.
The second stanza reads:
“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”.
.
The translations are:
“Those supply-powerful paddings, turning there
in the tiniest of circles, well might be
the dance of forces round a center where
some mighty will stands paralytically.”
(Leishman)
“The easy motion of his supple stride,
which turns about the very smallest circle,
is like a dance of strength about a center
in which a will stands stupefied.”
(MacIntyre)
“As he paces in cramped circles, over and over.
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed”
(Mitchell)
“The supple, powerful footfall paces softly
in ever-tinier circles, tight-described,
a danced strength, as though about a centre
where a great will stays, stupified”
(Ranson / Sutherland)
“The supple pace of powerful soft strides,
turning in the very smallest circle,
is like a dance of strength around a center
in which a great will stands numbed.”
(Snow)
The first two lines of the second stanza read:
“Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte,
der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht”.
The opening line lacks a main verb, consisting simply of nouns, adverbs and adjectives, perhaps, in the spirit of the Dinggedicht, to foreground the tangibility of the panther, but also to highlight the fact that it suffers from lack of movement (indeed, the entire stanza only possesses two main verbs, “ist” and “steht”, both of which are descriptors of motionlessness). Mitchell adds a verb, “paces”, but the other translators find alternative ways of communicating the restlessness of the panther as it moves around its cage. Its “steps” or “paces” are described with three descriptors, “weiche”, “geschmeidig” and “starker”, two are adjectives (“weiche” and “starker”); one is an adverb (“geschmeidig”). Only two translators, Snow, and Ranson / Sutherland, translate all three terms. MacIntyre neglects “stark”, and Leishman either “weich” or “geschmeidig”, perhaps because semantically the two words seem to be doing the same job, an affinity reinforced by their alliteration. “Soft”, “supple” and “strong” are the obvious choices. Leishman’s “paddings” for “geschmeidig” refers to the soft underlay of the panther’s feet but suffers from interference with the more common usage of the term, which refers to material used to pad out objects. The “allerkleinsten Kreise” are “the very smallest” or “tiniest” circles. They may well be “cramped” (Mitchell), but this is to interpret the text.
The poem is about space, and it would be best to keep depictions of that space (as befits a Dinggedicht) as neutral as possible. Ranson and Sutherland wish to emphasise the restrictive nature of the panther’s movement, naming it rather mysteriously as “tight-described”, using the secondary meaning of “describe”, to mark out or draw lines around something, from the Latin “de-scribere” (although the primary sense of the term tends to interfere with this meaning). Such a procedure, however, introduces new text into the poem and impinges upon its clarity.
As they turn in the smallest of circles, the panther’s movements are like “ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte”. The focus is, once again, on place and space and the placement of selfhood through immersion in the moment. Rilke’s description of the dignity and gravitas of the panther has two possible extratextual sources. Its actions are reminiscent of the concept of “Grazie” found in Heinrich von Kleist’s essay on the puppet stage (“Über das Marionettentheater”, 1810). Like the puppet, the panther is free from rational self-consciousness and introspection and, in spite of its containment, still possesses a “will”. A second influence may lie in Rilke’s contact with the sculptor, Auguste Rodin, the simple monumentality of whose work Rilke admires. As he wrote to his wife, Clara, in September 1902, regarding Rodin’s model for a tiger he noted, “the representation of the prowling stride is intensified to the highest degree, the powerful downward tread of the broad paws, and simultaneously that caution in which all strength is wrapped, that noiselessness”. Deprived of exteriority, the panther succours itself on interiority and the immediate sense of place, a “Mitte”. The poem both structurally and thematically thrives on this tension between the fact of stasis and the will to kinesis.
Although the line, “ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte,” is translated literally by most as a “dance of strength around a center”, Mitchell sees this as a “ritual dance”. He is no doubt correct in his reading, but not in his translation. The quasi-religious, ceremonial tones of “ritual” belong to an earlier idiom in Rilke’s verse and not to that of the Dinggedichte. A successful translation of the poem should resist the temptation to embroider, interpret or add colourful paraphrase to Rilke’s words. This is a dance in which a mighty will stands or lies “betäubt”. It is a crucial term, for it is a rare instance in the poem when we are given access to the inner world of the panther. In medical terms, “betäubt” is a state induced by an anesthetic temporarily to deaden the nervous system. Mitchell translates it as “paralyzed” and Leishman through the adverb “paralytically”, but this is far too technical and describes a medical condition that applies to the entire body (and the suggestion is permanently) and not just to the mind or brain. “Stupified” is preferred by MacIntyre and Ranson / Sutherland, but this contains the kernel “stupid”. “Numbed” (Snow) is the more neutral term and picks up on the stem word “taub”.
The third and final stanza reads:
“Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille
sich lautlos auf -. Dann geht ein Bild hinein,
geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille –
und hört im Herzen auf zu sein”.
.
The translations are:
“Just now and then the pupil’s noiseless shutter
is lifted – Then an image will indart,
down through the limbs’ intensive stillness flutter,
and end its being in the heart”
(Leishman)
Only sometimes when the pupil’s film
soundless opens … then one image fills
and glides through the quiet tension of the limbs
into the heart and ceases and is still”
(MacIntyre)
“Only at times, the curtain of his pupils
lifts quietly – An image enters in,
rushes down through tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone”
(Mitchell)
“Sometimes the curtain in his eye lifts
inaudibly. An image enters dully,
travels the tautened quiet of the limbs –
and in the heart ceases to be”
(Ranson / Sutherland)
“Only sometimes the curtain of the pupils
soundless slides up -, Then an image enters,
glides through the limbs’ taut stillness,
dives into the heart and dies”.
(Snow)
The stanza begins: “Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille auf”. Are these “pupils” or “eyes”? Although choosing “pupils” (as all translators except Ranson /Sutherland do) concentrates the panther’s gaze more sharply than “eyes”, “pupils” reflects the exercise of a bodily part rather than an activity of the perceiving self. The latter is present but only as the object not the subject of the process. A further issue concerns whether we are talking about one or two “pupils’ or “eyes”. Leishman and Ranson / Sutherland go for the singular option; all other translators for (what seems the most logical) two eyes. These eyes are opened by “curtain” or “film” (MacIntyre) or “shutter” (Leishman, perhaps overextending the photographical parallel). The panther’s eye lids lift silently, “lautlos”, for a brief second to allow an image of the external world to be seen. “Lautlos” finds a wide spectrum of translations, from “soundless” (Snow) to “quietly” (Mitchell”. “Inaudibly” (Ranson / Sutherland) seems to me a fussy word not in keeping with the understated idiom of the poem. The panther’s eyes have now been fully opened. “Sich aufschieben” is Rilke’s chosen verb to describe this action, and that has been translated as “lifts” (Ranson / Sutherland) and (Mitchell), “slides up” (Snow), “is lifted” Leishman, and “opens” (MacIntyre). “Llifts” is used intransitively, but “aufschieben” describes a more forceful action and it is one of the few verbs of action in the poem, and hence “push open” might be more appropriate. “Lifts”, however, is a gentler action and more in keeping with the rather passive mood of the text here.
The panther’s eyes register an image that “geht … hinein”. It is simple phrase but one that has generated competing translations, from “will indart” (Leishman), “fills” (MacIntyre) and “enters in” (Mitchell). The matter of fact “enters” (Ranson / Sutherland and Snow) is more in keeping with the self-effacing diction of the poem. Once the image is in the panther, what does it do? It “travels” (Ranson / Sutherland), “glides through” (MacIntyre and Snow), “flutters” (Leishman) and “rushes down” (Mitchell). None of these translators seems prepared to accept the fact that Rilke simply repeats “geht”. All are looking for something more interesting, evocative, energetic. But these are qualities that Rilke does not want in his poem, preferring the non-interesting, the non-evocative, the non-energetic “geht” instead. Repetition, the (Nietzschean-lookalike) always-the-same of the Eternal Return, provides the parameters of the panther’s experience of the world.
The image undertakes a little journey “durch der Glieder angespannte Stille -“. There is general agreement here on how to translate this line, “through the limbs’ taut stillness” (Snow) being representative. The final line of the stanza (and the poem) reveals. however, major differences between the translators, and here interpretation and translation are joined in an inseparable hermeneutic act. The line in German is (describing the trajectory and destination of the perceived image): “und hört im Herzen auf zu sein”. There is no agreement on how to translate this line, or even what this line might mean. Mitchell chooses “into the heart and is gone” (gone elsewhere?), and MacIntyre “into the heart and ceases and is still” (the latter phrase an addition to Rilke’s text). Ranson / Sutherland and Leishman come close to agreement with respectively “and in the heart ceases to be” and “ends its being in the heart”.
It is, indeed, crucial to retain the German “sein” with which the line ends. In one sense, the entire poem is about Being. Just as Rilke’s later Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge (1907) anticipate much of the Existentialist discourse of Heidegger and Sartre, so “The Panther” is a vignette of that discourse, formed around tropes of authenticity / inauthenticity, freedom / restraint (although the they not necessarily exclude one another), the exercise of will and the failure of the will to impose itself in the world, self-consciousness and the abolition of the same. These tropes are explored in the most economical way through a precision of poetic structure. The poem begins where it ends, with “sein”, and moves to the centre of its problematic and then away from it, with “Kreis” (“circle”) being a term in the exact middle of the text. The poem opens with a failed externalisation of perception and ends with a failed internalisation of the same. In the consequentiality of its discourse, the textual form of “The Panther” is almost syllogistic.
As readers we are drawn back time and again to Rilke’s poem because of its classic integrity of form and theme, and because of one further reason. The panther is us.
My translation:
“His gaze has become so weary from his pacing along the bars
that he can no longer retain anything.
It seems to him that there are a thousand bars,
and behind them a thousand more, and then no world.
II
His soft gait flexed in strong steps,
which turn around in the tiniest of circles,
is like a dance of strength around a centre,
in which a mighty will lies dazed.
III
Only now and then does the curtain
lift silently from his eyes. An image goes in,
goes into the limbs of his tensed stillness –
and, within his heart, ceases to be”.
“The Panther” has been translated into English many times. A broad cross-section of these can be found on the Internet with “The Panther: An Assemblage of Translations”. Brian Jones
To which, we should add that of Serena Luckhoff. See her “Rilke in Translation: Uncovering the Panther in the English Language”.
Rilke, Duino Elegies Comparing Translations Martin Travers 