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Western Dusk
A faun-cry romps through sparks,
In the parks cascades of light foam,
Metallic vapors around steel arcades
Of the city which rolls around the sun.
A god races shimmering in a harness of tigers
Past women and bright bazaars,
Filled with flowing gold and wares.
And slave people howl now and then.
In the canal a drunken ship rotates
Sluggishly in green solar sheaves.
A cheerful concert of colors
Quietly rises before the hospital.
A Quirinal exhibits sinister splendor.
In mirrors colorful crowds circulate
On bridge arches and tracks.
Before benches a demon wakes palely.
A dreamer sees pregnant women
Glide past in slimy brilliance,
A dying man hears bells ringing -
A golden stash glows quietly in the horror.
poem
by
Georg Trakl
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