Georg Trakl
Melancholy
Mighty are you dark mouth
From within, figure formed
Of autumn clouds,
Golden evening stillness;
A greenish darkening mountain torrent
In shattered pine
Shadow district;
A village,
That decays devoutly in brown images.
There black horses frisk
On the misty pasture.
You soldiers!
From the hill, where the sun rolls dying,
Plunges the laughing blood –
Beneath oaks
Dumbstruck! O bitter melancholy
Of the army; a shining helmet
Sank clanking from the crimson brow.
Autumn night so cool advances,
Gleaming with stars
Over the shattered remains of men
The peaceful maiden monk.
Translated by Will Stone
Page(s) 55
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