Poetry       Prose       Letters

Georg Trakl


In Red Foliage Full of Guitars...

In red foliage full of guitars
The girls' yellow hair blows
By the fence where sunflowers stand.
A golden chariot drives through the clouds.

In the repose of brown shadows
The old grow silent, embrace dim-wittedly.
Orphans sing sweetly for vespers.
In yellow fumes flies buzz .

At the brook women are still washing.
The hung-up linens billow.
The small child, whom I have long liked,
Comes once more through evening's grayness.

From mild skies sparrows fall
Into green holes filled with rot.
A smell of bread and harsh spices
Feigns recovery to the hungry.


© Jim Doss & Werner Schmitt



Poetry       Prose       Letters

Website Copyright © 2008 by Loch Raven Review.

Copyright Notice and Terms of Use: This website contains copyrighted materials, including, but not limited to, text, photographs, and graphics. You may not use, copy, publish, upload, download, post to a bulletin board. or otherwise transmit, distribute, or modify any contents of this website in any way, except that you may download one copy of such contents on any single computer for your own personal non-commercial use, provided you do not alter or remove any copyright, poet, author, or artist attribution, or any other proprietary notices.