CURRENT MOON

Saturday, September 06, 2008

Weekend Trakl Blogging

Trumpets
Under the trimmed willows, where brown children
are playing
And leaves tumbling, the trumpets blow. A quaking
of cemeteries.
Banners of scarlet rattle through a sadness of maple
trees,
Riders along rye-fields, empty mills.
Or shepherds sing during the night, and stags step
delicately
Into the circle of their fire, the grove’s sorrow
immensely old,
Dancing, they loom up from one black wall;
Banners of scarlet, laughter, insanity, trumpets.

~George Trakl, trans. by Robt. Bly


I love trumpets.

1 comment:

left rev said...

Wow! Breathtakingly beautiful.

I played the trumpet a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. There were six girls and one guy in our section, so of course, we were the "trumpet strumpets."

We kicked brass. :)