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  • Writer's picturemichaelkjarvie7

Georg Trakl in Translation


The snow sank softly from dark footfalls,

In the tree-shadow Lovers raise their rosy eyelids.

Star and night always follow the dark calls

Of the boatman; And the oars gently keep stroke.

Soon beside a ruined wall Violets bloom, Turning green the temples of the solitary man.


Mountain ranges: blackness, silence and snow.

Red from the forest the hunt returns; O the mossy looks of the prey.

Maternal stillness; beneath black firs The sleeping hands are open wide, When the cold moon appears in its decay.

O the birth of man. Nightly Blue water roars in the rocky glen;

Sighing, the fallen angel spies his image;

Someone pale awakes in a musty room.

Twin moons Are the glittering eyes of the stony hag.

Ah, the cry of a woman in labour!

Black-wingéd night stirs the brow of the boy,

Snow, that softly spills from purple cloud.

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