Georg Trakl

Sun of autumn, thin and
And fruit drops off the trees,
Blue silence fills the
Of a tardy afternoon’s sky.

At evening the autumn woodlands
With deadly weapons.
Over the golden
And lakes of blue, the

Gone and passed is the gold of day,
And the evening’s brown and blue:
Silenced the shepherd’s tender
And the evening’s brown and

In the spirit’s solitary
It is lovely to walk in the
Along the yellow walls of summer.
Quietly whisper the steps in the grass; yet always

He truly loved the purple sun, descending from the hills,
The ways through the woods, the singing
And the joys of green.
Sombre was his dwelling in the shadows of the

Like the wild organs of the winter
Is the people gloomy rage,
The purple billow of
Of stars leaf-stripped.

It is a light, that the wind has extinguished.
It is a pub on the heath, that a drunk departs in the afternoon.
It is a vineyard, charred and black with holes full of spiders.
It is a space, that they have white-limed with milk.

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.

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.

There is a stubble field on which a black rain falls.
There is a tree which, brown, stands lonely here.
There is a hissing wind which haunts deserted huts—-How sad this evening.
Past the village

Sleep and death, the dusky
Around this head swoop all night long;
Eternity’s icy
Would swallow the golden

Dreamless sleep - the dusky Eaglesnightlong rush about my head,
man's golden image drownedin timeless icy tides.
On jagged reefshis purpling body.
Darkechoes sound above the seas.

When snow falls against the window,
Long sounds the evening bell…For so many has the
Been prepared, the house set in order.
From their wandering