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An Evening In Winter When snow kisses my window the evening bells seem to peal forever... The table is set, the house neat, prepared to receive. From wandering, many follow their dusky paths to this portal. The earth's cool sap sprouts a flowering tree dripping golden grace. Be still, sojourner, step in: Sorrow has worried this threshold to naked stone. But  look: wrapped in pristine, radiant light, there on the table, shine bread and wine.   - trans. mce
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
Georg Trakl: A Translation
An Evening In Winter When snow kisses my window the evening bells seem to peal forever... The table is set, the house neat, prepared to receive. From wandering, many follow their dusky paths to this portal. The earth's cool sap sprouts a flowering tree dripping golden grace. Be still, sojourner, step in: Sorrow has worried this threshold to naked stone. But  look: wrapped in pristine, radiant light, there on the table, shine bread and wine.   - trans. mce
Trakl was a mad - really - German poet. In German his words are flames; in English, not so much.
mike-essig
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
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