Georg Trakl (3 February 1887 - 3 November 1914 / Salzburg)
In the evening the sky was overcast.
And through the grove full of silence and grief
A dark-golden shower went.
Distant evening bells faded away.
The earth has drunk icy water,
At the forest's edge a fire lay glowing,
The wind quietly sang with angel's voices
And shivering I have gone to the knee,
In the heather, in bitter cresses.
Far outside clouds swam in silver puddles,
Desolate guards of love.
The heath was lonesome and unmeasured.
Comments about this poem (An Evening by Georg Trakl )
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