Snake River Contrasts III . . . from Southend of Hells Canyon, Northeast Oregon / Idaho . .
On the road in the Northwest of America.
There is truly something magical about the—for me—countless unknown,
unnamed side-canyons of the Snake. They are like open questions,
invitations to climb, to explore. Like the great Rilke poem, EINGANG,
has it:
Entrance
Whovever you are: step out into the evening
out of your living room, where everything is so known;
your house stands as the last thing before great space:
Whoever you are.
With your eyes, which in their fatigue can just barely
free themselves from the worn-out thresholds,
very slowly, lift a single black tree
and place it against the sky, slender and alone.
With this you have made the world. And it is large
and like a word that is still ripening in silence.
And, just as your will grasps their meaning,
they in turn will let go, delicately, of your eyes . . .
Rainer Maria Rilke (tr. Cliff Crego)
The Book of Images
