Poetry       Prose       Letters

Georg Trakl


The Beautiful City

Old plazas remain in sunny silence.
Deeply spun in blue and gold
Gentle nuns hasten dreamlike
Under the beech trees' silence.

Out of brownly illuminated churches
The pure images of death gaze,
Beautiful coats of arms from mighty princes.
Crowns shimmer in the churches.

Steeds plunge out of the fountain.
Flower-claws threaten from trees.
Boys, confused by dreams, play quietly
In the evening there at the fountain.

Girls stand by the gates,
Peer shyly into the colorful life.
Their moist lips quiver
And they wait by the gates.

The trembling flutter of bell sounds,
March rhythms resonate and the calling of the guard.
Strangers listen on the steps.
High in the blue are organ sounds.

Bright instruments sing.
Through the gardens' borders of foliage
The laughter of beautiful ladies whirs by.
Softly young mothers sing.

Lurking by flowery windows
The scent of incense, tar and lilac exhales.
Silverly, weary eyelids glimmer
Through the flowers by the windows.


© Jim Doss & Werner Schmitt



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