Poetry       Prose       Letters

Georg Trakl


Autumn of the Lonely

The dark autumn returns filled with fruit and abundance,
Yellow brilliance of beautiful summer days.
A pure blueness steps from a decayed sheath;
The flight of birds resounds with ancient legends.
The wine is pressed, the mild stillness
Filled with the soft answer to dark questions.

And here and there, a cross on barren hill;
In the red forest a herd wanders off.
The cloud roams over the pond-mirror;
The countryman's calm gesture is at rest.
Very softly the blue wing of the evening touches
A roof of dried straw, the black earth.

Soon stars nest in the brows of the weary;
In cool rooms a silent modesty enters
And angels step gently from the blue
Eyes of lovers, who suffer more softly.
The reed murmurs; a bony horror seizes
When dew drips blackly from bare willows.


© Jim Doss & Werner Schmitt



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