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Georg Trakl

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The West

Dedicated to Else Lasker-Schüler

      1
Moon, as if a dead thing
Emerged from a blue cavern,
And manifold blossoms fall
Upon the rocky path.
All silver a sick creature
Weeps by the evening pond,
Upon a black barge
Lovers crossing died.

Or Elis’ footsteps
Ring through the grove
Hyacinth-filled
Dying away again under oaks.
O the figure of the boy
Fashioned from crystal tears,
Shadows of night.
Jagged flashes of lightning illumine
The ever cool brow
When Spring storms resound
By the fresh green hill.

      2
So quiet are the green woods
Of our homeland,
The crystalline wave
Dying away by the ruined wall,
And we wept in sleep;
Wandering with timid steps
Down past the thorny thicket,
Singers in summer’s eve,
In the sacred peace
Of the far resplendent vinyard;
Shadows now in the cool womb
Of night, grief-stricken eagles.
As gently does a moonlit beam close
The scarlet scars of melancholy.

      3
You great cities
Reared of stone
In the plains!
Speechless with dark brow
The homeless man
Follows the wind,
Bare trees by the hillside.
You far-flung fading rivers!
Fearful sunsets
In tempest clouds
Inspire mighty dread.
You dying nations!
Pallid wave
Breaking upon night’s shore,
Falling stars.

Translated by Alexander Stillmark

Page(s) 51-52

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