There is a stubble field on which a black rain falls. <br />There is a tree which, brown, stands lonely here. <br />There is a hissing wind which haunts deserted huts- - <br />How sad this evening. <br /> <br />Past the village pond <br />The gentle orphan still gathers scanty ears of corn. <br />Golden and round her eyes are gazing in the dusk <br />And her lap awaits the heavenly bridegroom. <br /> <br />Returning home <br />Shepherds found the sweet body <br />Decayed in the bramble bush. <br /> <br />A shade I am remote from sombre hamlets. <br />The silence of God <br />I drank from the woodland well. <br /> <br />On my forehead cold metal forms. <br />Spiders look for my heart. <br />There is a light that fails in my mouth. <br /> <br />At night I found myself upon a heath, <br />Thick with garbage and the dust of stars. <br />In the hazel copse <br />Crystal angels have sounded once more. <br /> <br /> <br />Translated by Michael Hamburger<br /><br />Georg Trakl<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/de-profundis/
