Wanderer in the black wind; quietly the dry reeds whisper
In the stillness of the moor. In the gray sky
A flock of wild birds follows;
Slanting over sinister waters.
Turmoil. In decayed hut
Putrefaction flutters up with black wings.
Crippled birches sigh in the wind.
Evening in deserted tavern. The way home is scented all around
By the soft gloom of grazing herds,
Apparition of the night: toads plunge out of silver waters.
At the Moor, Georg Trakl, 1915 (taken from Sebastian In Dream)
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