Retrospective

 

Poetry       Prose       Letters

Georg Trakl

 

The Ravens

Over the black corner at midday
The ravens rush with hard cry.
Their shadow streaks past the doe
And sometimes they are seen in sullen rest.

O how they disturb the brown silence
Of a field lying enraptured with itself,
Like a woman weighed down by heavy foreboding,
And sometimes one can hear their nagging

Around a carcass scented out somewhere,
And suddenly their flight bends northward
And disappears like a funeral procession
Into winds that tremble with lust.

 

© Jim Doss & Werner Schmitt

 

            

Poetry       Prose       Letters

Website Copyright © 2008 by Loch Raven Review.

Copyright Notice and Terms of Use: This website contains copyrighted materials, including, but not limited to, text, photographs, and graphics. You may not use, copy, publish, upload, download, post to a bulletin board. or otherwise transmit, distribute, or modify any contents of this website in any way, except that you may download one copy of such contents on any single computer for your own personal non-commercial use, provided you do not alter or remove any copyright, poet, author, or artist attribution, or any other proprietary notices.