Closing Chord

The last, pale light went from the day,
The early passions have rustled down,
The holy wine of my joys spilled
Now my heart weeps in the night and listens

After the echo of its young celebrations,
Which trails off so placidly in the dark,
So shadowy, like wilted leaves falling
On an abandoned grave in autumn night.

Georg Trakl The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.