Toward evening you hear the cry of the bats. <br />Two b l a c k h o r ses bound in the pasture, <br />The red maple rustles, <br />The walker along the road sees ahead the small <br />tavern. <br />Nuts and young wine taste delicious, <br />Delicious: to stagger drunk into the darkening woods. <br />Village bells, painful to hear, echo through the black <br />fir branches, <br />Dew forms on the face.<br /><br />Georg Trakl<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-heart-at-evening/
