Poetry       Prose       Letters

Georg Trakl


All Souls' Day

To Karl Hauer

Diminutive men, women, sad companions,
Today they scatter flowers blue and red
On crypts they apprehensively illuminate.
They act like needy dolls before death.

O! how full of fear and humility they seem
Like shadows standing behind black bushes.
The weeping of the unborn complains in the autumn wind,
Also one sees lights lose their way.

The sighs of lovers breathe in the branches,
And there the mother with the child rots.
The dance of the living seems unreal
And strangely dispersed in the evening wind.

Their life is so confused, full of dim plagues.
God take pity on the women's hell and agony
And these hopeless lamentations of death.
Silently, the lonely wander in the hall of stars.


© Jim Doss & Werner Schmitt



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