Hohenburg

by Georg Trakl

The house is empty. Fall in the room.
The moon’s lone glow
and a birth at the edge of the dawning woods.

Forever your thoughts turn to the ashen face of your people,
removed from the bedlam of time.
Over the dreamer green branches bend eagerly,

cross and evening.
With bruised arms his star envelops the Song of Songs.
Towards the unpeopled window it ascends.

Thus the stranger shudders in blackness,
as his eyelids gently recede over
the far-off one. The silver voice of the wind in the hallway.

Translated by Eric Plattner

………………………………………………………………………….

Hohenburg

by Georg Trakl

Es ist niemand im Haus. Herbst in Zimmern;
Mondeshelle Sonate
Und das Erwachen am Saum des dämmernden Walds.

Immer denkst du das weiße Antlitz des Menschen
Ferne dem Getümmel der Zeit;
Über ein Träumendes neigt sich gerne grünes Gezweig,

Kreuz und Abend;
Umfängt den Tönenden mit purpurnen Armen sein Stern,
Der zu unbewohnten Fenstern hinaufsteigt.

Also zittert im Dunkel der Fremdling,
Da er leise die Lider über ein Menschliches aufhebt,
Das ferne ist; die Silberstimme des Windes im Hausflur.

~ by Ep on January 16, 2010.

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