Ballad (2)

A sultry garden stood the night.

We kept silent ourselves about what grips us horribly.

From this our hearts awoke

And succumbed under the burden of silence.

No star blossomed in that night

And nobody asked for us.

Only a demon has laughed in the darkness.

Be cursed everyone! Then the deed came into being.

poem by Georg Trakl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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