Translation, Rilke Die Erblindende (Losing Her Sight)

She sat there, like the others, having tea, it seemed she held her cup a different way, not like the others, it was clear to see. She smiled, it almost hurt, but once that day. When they arose and started talking meandering through rooms, as if by chance, I looked at her, they laughed as she was walking, she followed them, too slowly, as in trance. But hesitating now as if somehow expected to sing before a crowd, with much at stake, her smiling eyes alight as they reflected an inner brightness, coming from a lake. She followed, hesitating, as it took awhile, as if some hurdles, to be conquered soon, and that, advancing still in single file she surely would be flying and not walking, soon.