Translating Rilke, I.1

This is a first attempt at translating from Rilke's Book of Hours, I.1
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The weight of Time imposed itself:
the clear-sounded ironstroke stirred the hour within me,
a tremor resounding upon my senses.
I am feeling - no -
I am emboldened -
I lay hold of the day to mold Time into its own forms.

No matter comes into its own until I have held it under my full gaze;
meaning awaits my attention
ready, as a bride, to come to the one she desires.

Three poems published

Three poems newly published in the winter issue of miller's pond poetry.