At the Moor - Georg Trakl

Wanderer in the blackened wind. Dry reeds whisper
in the stillness of the moor. A column of savage birds
ensues in the dawning sky.
Over murky waters they cross.

Uproar. From the crumbling shack
the black wings of rot flutter up.
Crippled birches sigh in the wind.

Evening in the forsaken tavern. The way home is shrouded
by the tender sadness of the grazing herd.
Night becomes manifest: toads emerge from the silver water.

---

Georg Trakl (1887 - 1914) Austria
Translated by Eric Plattner and Joseph Suglia

Source: Poetry Nook