Poetry       Prose       Letters

Georg Trakl


The Sun

Daily the yellow sun comes over the hill.
Beautiful is the forest, the dark animal,
Man; hunter or shepherd.

Reddish the fish rises in the green pond.
Under the round sky
The fisherman softly gides the blue boat.

Slowly the grape ripens, the corn.
When the day ends in stillness,
A good and evil is prepared.

When night comes,
The wanderer gently lifts the heavy eyelids;
The sun breaks out of a gloomy ravine.


© Jim Doss & Werner Schmitt



Poetry       Prose       Letters

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