Melancholy of the Evening

Melancholy of the Evening
by, Georg Trakl

~The forest, which widens deceased~
And shadows are around it, like hedges.
The deer comes trembling out of hidden places,
While a brook glides very quiet

And follows ferns and ancient stones
And gleams silverly from tangled foliage.
Soon one hears it in black gorges -
Perhaps, also that stars already shine.

The dark plain seems endless,
Scattered villages, marsh and pond,
And something feigns a fire to you.
A cold gleam shoos over roads.

In the sky one anticipates movement,
An army of wild birds migrates
Towards those lands, beautiful, distant.
The stirring of reeds rises and sinks.