When you decide to seriously engage with the poetic work of Rainer Maria Rilke - at least with what is known from translations by Greek translators - and you begin to gather the material you will need to go beyond what has been handed down, you do not suspect the painful journey that this lyrical river of German literature from the 20th century will lead you on.

If you stand in ecstasy on the faintly lit plateau of his expressionistic inspiration, where the wind of his restless and constantly unsatisfied spirit rustles, you feel yourself enveloped by that sacred awe that is always evoked by the mystical hovering of the unquenchable lyrical passion of a high-altitude poet.

An inspired figure who senses the rustle of divinity without, however, being able to fully grasp it, in order to calm himself within the velvety touch of its presence.