The Ravens Above the black nook at noontide Hasten the ravens, with harsh cries. Their shadow streaks past the doe And sometimes they are seen in surly repose. O how they disturb the brown silence In a field enraptured with its being, Like a woman bewitched by a dark foreboding, And sometimes you hear them scolding Around a carcass, somewhere they sniff out, Then suddenly they change course northwards And die out like a funeral cort.ge In air that quivers with lust. The Young Maid Dedicated to Ludwig von Ficker I Often by the fountain at dusk You see her as if enchanted Drawing water, in the dusk. The pail rattles down, back up. In the beeches jackdaws flutter And she appears as if a shadow. Her yellow hair it flutters up and in the yard rats are shrieking. Caressed by decay She lowers feverish lids. Grass withered by decay Inclines at her feet. II Silence she creates in the room And long the yard is abandoned. In the elderberry before the room Sad piping of a blackbird's tune. Silver her reflection in the mirror glass Alien to her in the twilight glow And wanly fades in the mirror glass And her dread before its purity. Dreamily a farm hand sings in darkness And she stares, shaken by pain. Red trickles through the darkness. Suddenly the south wind rattles at the gate. III Night upon the bare pastureland She flutters there in fever dreams. Sullen whines the wind over the pastureland And the moon listens from the trees. Soon the stars around turn pale And exhausted by grievance Her waxen cheeks turn pale. Putrefaction wafts from the earth. Sorrowfully rustles the reed by the pond And cowering she suffers the cold. Cock crow far off. Above the pond Morning shivers grey, unyielding. IV In the forge rings the hammer And before the gate she scurries. Glowing red the farm hand wields the hammer She looks across as if dead. As in a dream she is struck by laughter; And she reels into the forge, Crouched coyly before his laughter, Hard and coarse like the hammer. In the room radiate shining sparks And with a helpless gesture She tries to grasp the wild sparks And in a daze drops to earth. V Stretched out, slender, on the bed She awakens heavy with sweet fears And she looks at the grubby bed Veiled with a golden light, The mignonettes there by the window And the blue radiant heavens. Sometimes the breeze wafts in the window The timid tinkling of the bell. Shadows slide over the pillow, Slowly the noon hour sounds And she breathes heavily into the pillow And her mouth is like a wound. VI At evening floats the bloody linen, Clouds above the silent woods, That are draped in black linen. The chatter of sparrows in the fields. And she lies all white in darkness. Beneath the roof a cooing wafts. Like a carrion in bush and darkness Flies whir about her mouth. Dreamlike sounds in the brown hamlet To an echo of fiddles and dances, Her countenance drifts over the hamlet, Her hair blows in bare branches. Excerpted from Surrender to Night: The Collected Poems of Georg Trakl by Georg Trakl All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
