Treasure Island

Georg Trakl

(3 February 1887 - 3 November 1914 / Salzburg)

Winter Evening


When snow falls against the window,
Long sounds the evening bell...
For so many has the table
Been prepared, the house set in order.

From their wandering, many
Come on dark paths to this gateway.
The tree of grace is flowering in gold
Out of the cool sap of the earth.

In stillness, wanderer, step in:
Grief has worn the threshold into stone.
But see: in pure light, glowing
There on the table: bread and wine.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

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  • Peter Le Baige (3/14/2014 3:02:00 PM)

    Recommend anyone who likes this to read Martin Heidigger's essay 'Language'for its wonderful analysis of this poem. (Report) Reply

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