My Heart At Evening Poem by Georg Trakl
My Heart At Evening
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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/7/2026 5:37:03 AM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
