Georg Trakl

(3 February 1887 - 3 November 1914 / Salzburg)

December - Poem by Georg Trakl

At evening jugglers travel through the forest

On quaint wagons, small steeds.

A golden stash seems locked in clouds.

In the white plain villages are painted.

The wind swings shield and billet black and cold.

A raven follows the morose comrades.

From the sky a ray falls on bloody gutters

And placidly a funeral procession pilgrimages to the cemetery.

The shepherd's hut dwindles nearby in the gray,

In the pond a brilliance of old treasures glistens;

The farmers sit down in the tavern for wine.

A boy glides shyly to a woman.

One still sees the sexton in the vestry

And reddish utensils, beautiful and dim.

Comments about December by Georg Trakl

  • Brian Jani (5/16/2014 5:48:00 PM)

    Georg Amazing showcase of poetry, keep it up (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 6, 2012

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