Georg Trakl - I

A paleness, resting in the shadow of decayed staircases -

It rises at night in silver guise

And wanders under the cloister.

In coolness of a tree and without pain

The perfect breathes

And does not need the autumnal stars -

Thorns over which the other falls.

Lovers ponder long after

His sad fall.

Georg Trakl

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-148/