In the evening the sky was overcast.
And through the grove full of silence and grief
A dark-golden shower went.
Distant evening bells faded away.
The earth has drunk icy water,
At the forest's edge a fire lay glowing,
The wind quietly sang with angel's voices
And shivering I have gone to the knee,
In the heather, in bitter cresses.
Far outside clouds swam in silver puddles,
Desolate guards of love.
The heath was lonesome and unmeasured.
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Comments about this poem (An Evening by Georg Trakl )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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