Georg Trakl
Amen
Corruption gliding through the rotted chamber;
Shadows on yellow wallpaper; in dark mirrors is arched
The ivory sadness of our hands.
Brown pearls trickle through the unfeeling fingers.
In the silence
The poppy blue eyes of an angel are opened.
Blue also is the evening;
The hour of our dying, Azrael’s shadow,
Which darkens a little brown garden.
Translated by Alexander Stillmark
Page(s) 50-51
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