Probably around the deep midday, <br /> <br />I lay on an old stone, <br /> <br />Before me in quaint dress <br /> <br />Three angels stood in the sunshine. <br /> <br />O ominous spring year! <br /> <br />In the acre the last snow melted, <br /> <br />And the birch's hair hung quivering <br /> <br />In the cold, clear lake. <br /> <br />From the sky a blue ribbon blew, <br /> <br />And beautifully a cloud flowed within, <br /> <br />Facing it, I lay dreaming - <br /> <br />The angels kneeled in sunshine. <br /> <br />Loudly a bird sang marvelous stories, <br /> <br />And at once I could understand it: <br /> <br />Still before your first desire is satisfied, <br /> <br />You must go die, must go die!<br /><br />Georg Trakl<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/quaint-spring/
