When the evening breathes golden rest <br /> <br />Forest and dark meadow before which <br /> <br />Man is a looker, <br /> <br />A shepherd, dwelling in the flocks' dusking stillness, <br /> <br />The patience of the red beeches; <br /> <br />So clearly since it has become autumn. By the hill <br /> <br />The lonely one listens to the flight of birds, <br /> <br />To dark meaning and the shadows of the dead <br /> <br />Have gathered more seriously around him; <br /> <br />Cool mignonette scent fulfills him with shudders, <br /> <br />The huts of the villagers the elder, <br /> <br />Where in former times the child dwelled. <br /> <br />Memory, buried hope <br /> <br />Is preserved by these brown rafters, <br /> <br />Over which dahlias hang <br /> <br />So that the hands strive after them, <br /> <br />In the brown garden the shimmering step <br /> <br />Forbidden loving, dark year, <br /> <br />That from blue eyelids the tears <br /> <br />Of the stranger fell irresistibly. <br /> <br />From brown treetops dew drips, <br /> <br />When that one, a blue deer, awakes on the hill, <br /> <br />Listening to the loud calls of the fishermen <br /> <br />By the evening pond <br /> <br />To the amorphous cry of the bats; <br /> <br />But in golden stillness <br /> <br />The drunken heart dwells <br /> <br />Full of its noble death.<br /><br />Georg Trakl<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/homecoming-33/
