With the ghostly shapes of dead heroes <br />Moon, you ?ll <br />The growing silence of the forest, <br />Sickle-moon— <br />With the gentle embraces <br />Of lovers, <br />And with ghosts of famous ages <br />All around the crumbling rocks; <br />The moon shines with such blue light <br />Upon the city, <br />Where a decaying generation <br />Lives, cold and evil— <br />A dark future prepared <br />For the pale grandchild. <br />Yo u s h a d o w s s w a l l owed by the moon <br />Sighing upward in the empty goblet <br />Of the mountain lake<br /><br />Georg Trakl<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-evening-6/
