Georg Trakl

(3 February 1887 - 3 November 1914 / Salzburg)

My Heart At Evening - Poem by Georg Trakl

Toward evening you hear the cry of the bats.
Two b l a c k h o r ses bound in the pasture,
The red maple rustles,
The walker along the road sees ahead the small
tavern.
Nuts and young wine taste delicious,
Delicious: to stagger drunk into the darkening woods.
Village bells, painful to hear, echo through the black
fir branches,
Dew forms on the face.


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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 6, 2012



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