1 min read
Слушать(AI)In The East
Like the wild organs of the winter
Is the people gloomy rage,
The purple billow of
Of stars leaf-stripped.
With broken brows, silvery
The night beckons to dying soldiers.
In the autumnal ash-tree’s
The ghosts of the killed are sighing.
Thorny wilderness surrounds the town.
From steps that bleeds the
Drives off dumbfounded women.
Wild wolves have burst through the gate.
Georg Trakl
Georg Trakl (3 February 1887 – 3 November 1914) was an Austrian poet and brother of the pianist Grete Trakl. He is considered one of the most im
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Delirium
The black snow runs down from the rooftops; A red finger dips into your brow; Blue snow flakes sink into the empty room, They are a lovers’ dying mirrors
To The Silenced
Oh, the great city's madness when at The crippled trees gape by the blackened wall, The spirit of evil peers from a silver mask; Lights with magnetic scourge drive off the stony night
Lament
Sleep and death, the dusky Around this head swoop all night long; Eternity’s icy Would swallow the golden
Whispered Into Afternoon
Sun of autumn, thin and And fruit drops off the trees, Blue silence fills the Of a tardy afternoon’s sky