Poetry       Prose       Letters

Georg Trakl



The elderbush laden with fruit; calmly childhood dwelled
In a blue cave. Over the bygone path,
Where the wild grass now brownly swishes,
Silent branches ponder; the rustle of leaves

Like when blue water resounds in stone.
Gentle is the blackbirds' lament. Speechlessly,
A shepherd follows the sun that rolls down the autumn hill.

A blue moment is only more soul.
A shy deer appears along the forest edge and peacefully
The old bells and gloomy hamlets rest in the valley.

More devoutly you know the meaning of the dark years,
Coolness and autumn in lonely rooms;
And shining footsteps ring forth in holy blueness.

Softly an open window rattles; tears flow
At the sight of the cemetery in ruins by the hill,
Memories of retold legends; but sometimes the soul brightens
When it thinks happy people, dark-gold spring days.


© Jim Doss & Werner Schmitt



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