'O stolzere Trauer! ihr ehernen Altäre,
Die heiße Flamme des Geistes nährt heute ein gewaltiger Schmerz,
Die ungebornen Enkel.'
The doves alight. The rooks cast shadows down.
And yet more trains arrive at Cracow Central
with wounded soldiers, while still others leave
for Gorlitz and the not too distant front.
Ludwig Wittgenstein arrives with a frown,
his logical thoughts not yet transcendental,
his gold watch rubbing his grey jacket’s sleeve.
He doesn’t know yet what he will confront.
He doesn’t know that he is three days late.
He doesn’t know that Trakl lies cold and dead.
He’ll take a tram and then walk down a lane.
He’ll put his fingers on a rusty gate,
hear howls, smell wounds, behold a sky that’s red.
And for the first time he will fathom pain.
Great imagining of a moment. I take it that Wittgenstein arrived something in the circumstances you write here; have never been able to find enough about Trakl to know anything about his death except 'Krakow' and 'hospital'. Love the gold watch, time ticking in the heart of the poem. Lovely, as the man wrote below, schoenes Gedicht.
Tonight I added a poem at my site that was inspired by Georg Trakl. So I typed in his name at PoemHunter and your poem popped up. It is a wonderful poem fully worthy of both Georg and Ludwig. I'm sure you share my delight that Wittgenstein gave part of his inheritance to Trakl and Rilke. He claimed not to understand Trakl's writing, but who really does? and what does understanding mean with a poet like Trakl? It's the experience of his poems that matters, and that is either way above or way below something as transient as understanding. I believe your poem is capable of giving comfort to a troubled ghost in need of healing. That's all of us. Thank you for this wonderful poem, which acknowledges both the poet's suffering and the philosopher's generosity.
erstaunliche & schöne Gedicht.. Halten Sie schriftlich.. Vielen Dank!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this poem is put together in a skilful way.keep up the good poetry and keep on writing.