In late autumn 1902, I was sitting in the park of the Military Academy in Wiener Neustadt under ancient chestnut trees, reading a book. I was so engrossed in my reading that I hardly noticed when the only non-officer among our professors, the learned and kind Academy chaplain Horacek, joined me. He took the volume from my hands, examined the cover, and shook his head. "Poems by Rainer Maria Rilke?" he asked thoughtfully. He then flipped through a few pages, skimmed some verses, gazed contemplatively into the distance, and finally nodded. So, from the student Rene Rilke, a poet has emerged.