Georg Trakl (3 February 1887 - 3 November 1914 / Salzburg)
A sultry garden stood the night.
We kept silent ourselves about what grips us horribly.
From this our hearts awoke
And succumbed under the burden of silence.
No star blossomed in that night
And nobody asked for us.
Only a demon has laughed in the darkness.
Be cursed everyone! Then the deed came into being.
Comments about this poem (Ballad (2) by Georg Trakl )
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