Georg Trakl

(3 February 1887 - 3 November 1914 / Salzburg)

The Church - Poem by Georg Trakl

Painted angels guard the altars;

And rest and shadows; beam from blue eyes.

In incense-fumes dirty lyes swim.

Figures stagger woebegone in the emptiness.

In the black kneeler a smallish whore

With faded cheeks resembles the Madonna.

In golden beams wax figures hang;

Moon and sun circle the white-bearded God.

A shine of soft columns and skeletons.

The sweet voices of boys died at the chancel.

Very quietly rapt colors move,

A flowing red from Magdalene's lips.

A pregnant woman goes astray in grave dreams

Through this twilight full of masks, flags.

Her shadow crosses the saints' still ways,

The angel's rest in lime-washed rooms.

Comments about The Church by Georg Trakl

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Friday, April 6, 2012

[Report Error]