Painted angels guard the altars;
And rest and shadows; beam from blue eyes.
In incense-fumes dirty lyes swim.
Figures stagger woebegone in the emptiness.
In the black kneeler a smallish whore
With faded cheeks resembles the Madonna.
In golden beams wax figures hang;
Moon and sun circle the white-bearded God.
A shine of soft columns and skeletons.
The sweet voices of boys died at the chancel.
Very quietly rapt colors move,
A flowing red from Magdalene's lips.
A pregnant woman goes astray in grave dreams
Through this twilight full of masks, flags.
Her shadow crosses the saints' still ways,
The angel's rest in lime-washed rooms.
The Church
Georg Trakl
(1)
Poem topics: angel, god, moon, red, sun, woman, blue, sweet, white, shadow, dirty, grave, black, shine, soft, golden, swim, circle, guard, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about The Church poem by Georg Trakl
Best Poems of Georg Trakl