Georg Trakl (3 February 1887 - 3 November 1914 / Salzburg)
Very bright tones in the thin winds,
They sing the distant mourning of this day,
That makes us dream after never-felt showers
Completely filled with unimaginable smells.
Like mementos to lost companions
And quiet echo of delights sunken in night,
The foliage falls in the long ago abandoned gardens,
Which sun themselves in the silence of paradise.
In the bright mirror of the clarified floods
We see the dead time strangely animate itself
And our passions in the bleeding
Lift our souls to more distant heavens.
We go through deaths newly transformed
To deeper tortures and deeper delights,
Where the unknown deity governs -
And we are completed by eternally new suns.
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