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Paris the day after Christmas， 1908
You must know， dear Mr. Kappus， how glad I was to have the lovely letter from you. The news that you give me， real and expressible as it now is again， seems to me good news， and the longer I thought it over， the more I felt that it was very good news indeed. That is really what I wanted to write you for Christmas Eve; but I have been variously and uninterruptedly living in my work this winter， and the ancient holiday arrived so quickly that I hardly had enough time to do the most necessary errands， much less to write.
But I have thought of you often during this holiday and imagined how silent you must be in your solitary fort among the empty hills， upon which those large southern winds fling themselves as if they wanted to devour them in large pieces.
It must be immense， this silence， in which sounds and movements have room， and if one thinks that along with all this the presence of the distant sea also resounds， perhaps as the innermost note in this prehistoric harmony， then one can only wish that you are trustingly and patiently letting the magnificent solitude work upon you， this solitude which can no longer be erased from your life; which， in everything that is in store for you to experience and to do， will act an anonymous influence， continuously and gently decisive， rather as the blood of our ancestors incessantly moves in us and combines with our own to form the unique， unrepeatable being that we are at every turning of our life.
Yes： I am glad you have that firm， sayable existence with you， that title， that uniform， that service， all that tangible and limited world， which in such surroundings， with such an isolated and not numerous body of men， takes on seriousness and necessity， and implies a vigilant application， above and beyond the frivolity and mere time passing of the military profession， and not only permits a self-reliant attentiveness but actually cultivates it. And to be in circumstances that are working upon us， that from time to time place us in front of great natural things - that is all we need.
Art too is just a way of living， and however one lives， one can， without knowing， prepare for it; in everything real one is closer to it， more its neighbor， than in the unreal half-artistic professions， which， while they pretend to be close to art， in practice deny and attack the existence of all art—as， for example， all of journalism does and almost all criticism and three quarters of what is called （and wants to be called） literature. I am glad， in a word， that you have overcome the danger of landing in one of those professions， and are solitary and courageous， somewhere in a rugged reality. May the coming year support and strengthen you in that
Always
Yours，
R. M. Rilke
親爱的开普斯先生，您得知道，我在收到您的来信时有多高兴。您给我带来的真实、生动的消息对我来说又是个好消息。我越想越觉得是这样。因此我急不可待地想要在圣诞前夜写信给您，但是我整个冬天一直在繁忙地工作，这冬日的假期来得这么快，以至于我都没有足够的时间做这最必要的事情了，写作也很少。
但是我在假期里经常想到您，想象着您怎样在那空旷的山谷、孤寂的城堡里寂寞地生活，而南边的风肆虐着，似乎要把那些山峦撕成碎片。
这寂静一定无边无际，它把声音和行动都吞没了，如果在这样的寂寞中人们能够想到远方的大海的回声，或许在这有史以来的和谐里能够深深地体会到这寂寞的真正滋味，然后就只希望您怀着信赖的心情耐心地让美妙的孤独在您身上做工，这孤独不再从您的生活中消失;它伴随着您，无处不在;这孤独对您施加的影响连您自己也难以察觉，它会不断地、温柔地起着决定性的作用，甚至像我们祖先的血液一样不断地在我们体内流淌，成为我们的一部分，使我们变成这独一无二的、无法替代的人，成为我们自己生活的主宰。
是的，我很高兴看到您变得坚定而有力了，那个称号，那套制服，那种服务，所有有形和有限的世界，都在这样的环境里，似乎与世隔绝，却又有无数人在身边，带着庄重和重要的感觉，时刻警醒，没有轻浮，时光在军事生涯中流逝着，之后一个自信的您就出现了。您发现自己真地自信起来。融于环境，体味生活，时而感到自然的力量，那正是我们需要的。
艺术也是一种生活的道路，不管一个人怎样活着，他能在无所知的情况下为其准备;无论是什么事情，只要是真实地对待，就比较容易接近，远非那些非真实的半艺术行当可比，当那些人假装接近艺术时，他们已经否定和攻击了所有艺术的存在——好象那些，举例来说吧，所有的记者、几乎所有批评家和四分之三的文学家（希望得到此称呼的人）所做的事情。最后我想说，我很高兴看到您已经远离了从事这些职业的危险。您在艰苦的现实面前独立了，勇敢了起来。希望来年您能更加坚强。
祝福您。
您的，李尔克
巴黎
You must know， dear Mr. Kappus， how glad I was to have the lovely letter from you. The news that you give me， real and expressible as it now is again， seems to me good news， and the longer I thought it over， the more I felt that it was very good news indeed. That is really what I wanted to write you for Christmas Eve; but I have been variously and uninterruptedly living in my work this winter， and the ancient holiday arrived so quickly that I hardly had enough time to do the most necessary errands， much less to write.
But I have thought of you often during this holiday and imagined how silent you must be in your solitary fort among the empty hills， upon which those large southern winds fling themselves as if they wanted to devour them in large pieces.
It must be immense， this silence， in which sounds and movements have room， and if one thinks that along with all this the presence of the distant sea also resounds， perhaps as the innermost note in this prehistoric harmony， then one can only wish that you are trustingly and patiently letting the magnificent solitude work upon you， this solitude which can no longer be erased from your life; which， in everything that is in store for you to experience and to do， will act an anonymous influence， continuously and gently decisive， rather as the blood of our ancestors incessantly moves in us and combines with our own to form the unique， unrepeatable being that we are at every turning of our life.
Yes： I am glad you have that firm， sayable existence with you， that title， that uniform， that service， all that tangible and limited world， which in such surroundings， with such an isolated and not numerous body of men， takes on seriousness and necessity， and implies a vigilant application， above and beyond the frivolity and mere time passing of the military profession， and not only permits a self-reliant attentiveness but actually cultivates it. And to be in circumstances that are working upon us， that from time to time place us in front of great natural things - that is all we need.
Art too is just a way of living， and however one lives， one can， without knowing， prepare for it; in everything real one is closer to it， more its neighbor， than in the unreal half-artistic professions， which， while they pretend to be close to art， in practice deny and attack the existence of all art—as， for example， all of journalism does and almost all criticism and three quarters of what is called （and wants to be called） literature. I am glad， in a word， that you have overcome the danger of landing in one of those professions， and are solitary and courageous， somewhere in a rugged reality. May the coming year support and strengthen you in that
Always
Yours，
R. M. Rilke
親爱的开普斯先生，您得知道，我在收到您的来信时有多高兴。您给我带来的真实、生动的消息对我来说又是个好消息。我越想越觉得是这样。因此我急不可待地想要在圣诞前夜写信给您，但是我整个冬天一直在繁忙地工作，这冬日的假期来得这么快，以至于我都没有足够的时间做这最必要的事情了，写作也很少。
但是我在假期里经常想到您，想象着您怎样在那空旷的山谷、孤寂的城堡里寂寞地生活，而南边的风肆虐着，似乎要把那些山峦撕成碎片。
这寂静一定无边无际，它把声音和行动都吞没了，如果在这样的寂寞中人们能够想到远方的大海的回声，或许在这有史以来的和谐里能够深深地体会到这寂寞的真正滋味，然后就只希望您怀着信赖的心情耐心地让美妙的孤独在您身上做工，这孤独不再从您的生活中消失;它伴随着您，无处不在;这孤独对您施加的影响连您自己也难以察觉，它会不断地、温柔地起着决定性的作用，甚至像我们祖先的血液一样不断地在我们体内流淌，成为我们的一部分，使我们变成这独一无二的、无法替代的人，成为我们自己生活的主宰。
是的，我很高兴看到您变得坚定而有力了，那个称号，那套制服，那种服务，所有有形和有限的世界，都在这样的环境里，似乎与世隔绝，却又有无数人在身边，带着庄重和重要的感觉，时刻警醒，没有轻浮，时光在军事生涯中流逝着，之后一个自信的您就出现了。您发现自己真地自信起来。融于环境，体味生活，时而感到自然的力量，那正是我们需要的。
艺术也是一种生活的道路，不管一个人怎样活着，他能在无所知的情况下为其准备;无论是什么事情，只要是真实地对待，就比较容易接近，远非那些非真实的半艺术行当可比，当那些人假装接近艺术时，他们已经否定和攻击了所有艺术的存在——好象那些，举例来说吧，所有的记者、几乎所有批评家和四分之三的文学家（希望得到此称呼的人）所做的事情。最后我想说，我很高兴看到您已经远离了从事这些职业的危险。您在艰苦的现实面前独立了，勇敢了起来。希望来年您能更加坚强。
祝福您。
您的，李尔克
巴黎