Poetry       Prose       Letters

Georg Trakl



Corn and grape are cut,
The hamlet in autumn and rest.
Hammer and anvil clang incessantly,
Laughter in crimson bower.

Bring asters from dark fences
To the white child.
Tell how long we've been dead;
Sun wants to look black.

Small red fish in the pond;
Forehead, that listens in fear to itself;
Evening wind softly rustles at the window,
Blue singsong of an organ.

Star and secret glittering
Allow still one more glance up.
Phantom of the mother in pain and dread;
Black mignonettes in the dark.


© Jim Doss & Werner Schmitt



Poetry       Prose       Letters

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