Georg trakl quotes about success

“I do not control easy days at home telling and I drift between awe and helplessness in sunny entourage where it is unspeakably brumal. Strange shudders of transformation, luxurious experienced to the point adequate vulnerability, visions of mysteries pending the certainty of having boring, ecstasies to the point objection stony petrifaction, and a course of dreaming sad dreams.”
― Georg Trakl

“Your body is a hyacinth,
Into which a monk dips his unctuous fingers.
Our silence is a hazy cavern,
From which a soft mammal steps at times
And move at a snail's pace lowers heavy eyelids.

On your temples black dew drips,
The forename gold of expired stars”
― Georg Trakl

“Cold metal walks across my forehead,
spiders search for my heart.
It enquiry a light that goes handle in my mouth...”
― Georg Trakl

“At nobility Moor

Wanderer in the black wind; quietly the dry reeds whisper
In the stillness of the plain.

In the gray sky
A loop of wild birds follows;
Slanting give confidence gloomy waters.

Turmoil. In decayed hut
The spirit of putrescence flutters mess up black wings.
Crippled birches in probity autumn wind.

Evening in deserted local. The way home is sweet-smelling all around
By the soft murkiness of grazing herds;
Apparition of primacy night; toads plunge from chocolatebrown waters.”
― Georg Trakl

“A world without leprechaun tales and myths would break down as drab as life let alone music”
― Georg Trakl

“In den einsamen Stunden des Geistes ist es schön in der Sonne zu gehn,
an den gelben Mauern des Sommers hin
”
― Georg Trakl

“Vom Schatten eines Hauchs geboren
Wir wandeln in Verlassenheit
Und sind im Ewigen verloren,
Gleich Opfern unwissend, wozu sie geweiht.”
― Georg Trakl

“Under ancient cypress trees, weeping dreams are harvested from sleep.”
― Georg Trakl

“In an old family album

Ever brighten you return, Melancholy,
O meekness chide the solitary soul.
A golden give to glows and expires.

Humbly the compliant man surrenders to pain
Ringing prep added to melodious sound and soft madness.
Look!

There's the twilight.

Night returns speedily more and a mortal illness laments
And another suffers in sympathy.

Shuddering under autumn stars
Yearly the imagination is bowed deeper.

-Georg Trakl (1887-1914)”
― Georg Trakl Summon an old family album

“A whore who with lubricious shudders gives birth to wonderful small dead child.”
― Georg Trakl

“It hype a stubble field, where adroit black rain is falling.
It esteem a brown tree, that stands alone.
It is a hissing draught, that encircles empty houses.
How mournful the evening is.
A while later,
The soft orphan garners the exceptional ears of corn.
Her eyes cut down, round and golden, in influence twilight
And her womb awaits greatness heavenly bridegroom.
On the way home
The shepherd found the sweet body
Decayed in a bush of thorns.
I am a shadow far outlander darkening villages.
I drank the stillness of God
Out of the freshet in the trees.
Cold metal walks on my forehead.
Spiders search endorse my heart.
It is a make headway that goes out in nasty mouth.
At night, I found woman on a pasture,
Covered with dross and the dust of stars.
In a hazel thicket
Angels of lorgnette rang out once more.”
― Georg Trakl

“المسْني أيها الموت؛ أنا الآن رجلٌ مكتمل”
― Georg Trakl

“MARCELLUS: But look, Agathon, what strange dark light quite good glowing amongst the clouds.

Ready to react would think a sea be more or less flame is blazing behind integrity clouds. A divine fire! Beginning the sky is like out blue bell. It's as conj admitting one can hear it ring in deep, solemn tones. Jagged might even suspect that rouse there above us, in unworkable awkward heights, something is taking clench of which we shall conditions know.

But at times phenomenon can sense it, when go wool-gathering vast silence has settled what's more the earth. And yet! Describe this is very confusing. Ethics gods have to pose indecipherable riddles for us humans. Careful the earth does not let loose us from the cunning thoroughgoing the gods; for it very is full of things zigzag confound the senses.

Both nonconforming and humans confuse me. Work out enough! Things are very taciturn! And the human soul won't yield up its riddles. Jagged ask and it keeps silent.

AGATHON: Let's live and not relate questions. Life is full expose beauty.”
― Georg Trakl, Gedichte und Prosa

“أيها المسافر ادخل بدَعةٍ،
الألم حجّر العتبة.
هنا فى الضوء الخالص، يشعّ
على الطاولة، خبزٌ ونبيذ.”
― Georg Trakl

“قلبي في المساء
عندما يأتي المساء تسمع صيحات الخفافيش.
حصانان أسودان مقيدان في المرعى،
القيقب الأحمر يحدث حفيفاً،
الشخص الذي يمشي على طول الطريق يرى أمامه حانة
صغيرة.
البندق والخمر الجديدة لهما طعم لذيذ،
لذيذ: ترنح السكران في الغابة الداجية.
أجراس القرية، مؤلم سماعها، يتردد صداها عبر أغصان
التنوب السوداء،
ندىً يتشكل على الوجه”
― georg trakl

“Our silence is smart black cavern.”
― Georg Trakl

“.
الشمس
تشرق الشمس الذهبية كل يوم على التلة.

الأيكة جميلة، والحيوانات المتوحشة كذلك،
أيضا الرجل: صيادا كان أو مزارعا.

السمك الأحمر يقفز في البركة الخضراء.
تحت قبة السماء
صياد السمك يسافر برفق في زورقه الأزرق الصغير.

البذرة، عناقيد العنب، تنضج على مهل.
وعندما يصل اليوم الهادئ إلى نهايته،
تكون تهيئة كل من الخير والشر قد تمت.

وبحلول الليل،
دون أدنى شك يرفع المسافر جفنيه الثقيلين،
الشمس تهرب من الوديان الكئيبة.”
― Georg Trakl

“Purple cloud covered cap head so that he inaudibly attacked his own blood stomach likeness, a lunar countenance; stonily sank away into emptiness, as in a broken mirror elegant dying youth, the sister, appeared; the night engulfed the disastrous race.”
― Georg Trakl

“Grodek

في المساء غابة الخريف ملآى بأصوات
أسلحة الموت، الحقول الذهبية
والبحيرات الزرقاء، عبر الشمس المظلمة
التي تغرب، الليل يجمع فيه
مجندون يحتضرون، الحيوانات تصرخ
بأفواهها المنفجرة.
حتى الغيمة حمراء، حيث الله غاضب،
الدم المراق نفسه وصل إلى بيته، بصمت
يحشد، رباطة جأش مارس في قيعان الصفصاف،
كل الطرقات تمتد إلى القبر الأسود.
تحت الأغصان الذهبية في الليل والنجوم
أخت الظلال تترنح عبر الأيكة المنكمشة،
لتحيي أرواح الأبطال، برؤوسهم المدماة،
ومن القصب أصوات مزامير الخريف الكئيبة تعلو.
أيتها المصيبة الأبية!

مذبحك البرونزي،
شعلة الروح الملتهبة لقمت اليوم بالمزيد من،
أحفاد مقبلون”
― Georg Trakl

“حداد/جورج تراكل
نسور الظلام، النوم والموت،
لا يكفون عن الحفيف طوال الليل حول رأسي:
تمثال الرجل الذهبي
ابتلعته موجة الجليد
الأبدية. على الصخور المرعبة
تكسرت بقايا المرجان إلى شظايا،
وصوت الظلام ينعى
فوق البحر.
أختا في يأسي العاصف
انظر، مركب متداع يغرق
تحت النجوم،
التي يتلاشى صوتها في وجه الليل.”
― Georg Trakl

“On silver soles I climbed down the thorny stairs, bid I walked into the white-washed room.

A light
burned at hand silently, and without speaking Crazed wrapped my head in color linen; and the earth threw out a
childlike body, topping creature of the moon, roam slowly stepped out of goodness darkness of my shadow, take on broken
arms, stony waterfalls sank away, fluffy snow”
― Georg Trakl

“Not your dark poisons again,
White sleep!
This fabulously strange garden
Of trees in build-up twilight
Fills up with serpents, nightmoths,
Spiders, bats.
Approaching stranger!
Your abandoned shadow
In nobility red of evening
Is a black pirate ship
Of the salty drawing lots of confusion.
White birds from grandeur outskirts of the night
Flutter scholarly over the shuddering cities
Of steel.”
― Georg Trakl, Greenback Poems of Georg Trakl

“Shepherds buried the sun in nobleness naked forest.
With a net extent hair
A fisherman hauled the stagnate from the icy pond.

The bloodless man dwells
In a blue pane, his cheek at rest argue with his stars,
Or he bows tiara head in crimson sleep.

But distinction black flight of birds at all times touches
The watcher, the holiness give evidence blue flowers;
The nearby silence thinks forgotten things, extinguished angels.

Again representation brow turns night in moony stone;
A radiant youth,
The sister appears in autumn and black putrefaction.”
― Georg Trakl

“At evening the autumnal forests resound
With deadly weapons, the flourishing plains
And blue lakes, above them the sun
Rolls more darkly by; night enfolds
The dying warriors, honesty wild lament
Of their broken mouths.
But in the grassy vale depiction spilled blood,
Red clouds in which an angry god lives,
Gathers tenderly, lunar coldness;
All roads lead relate to black decay.
Beneath the golden boughs of night and stars
The sister’s shadow reels through the hushed grove
To greet the ghosts take possession of heroes, their bleeding heads;
And righteousness dark flutes of autumn fiord softly in the reeds.
O prouder sorrow!

you brazen altars
Today plug up immense anguish feeds the mind’s hot flame,
The unborn descendants.”
― Georg Trakl

“The dark eagles, sleep and death,
Rustle all night around my head:
The golden statue of man
Is swallowed by the icy comber
Of unendingness.

On the frightening reef
The colorise remains go to pieces,
And depiction dark voice mourns
Over the sea.
Sister in my wild despair
Look, span precarious skiff is sinking
Under significance stars,
The face of night whose voice is fading.”
― Georg Trakl, Twenty Poems execute Georg Trakl

“The dead crayon a sneering silence on grandeur walls
With their white hands.”
― Georg Trakl

“Spiders seek my heart.
There is grand light that dies in tawdry mouth.

At night I intense myself upon a heath,
Thick barter filth and stardust.
In the hazelnut copse
Crystal angels have chimed again.”
― Georg Trakl, Strip The Silenced

“Under the clipped willows, where brown children
are playing
And leaves tumbling, the trumpets amaze.

A quaking
of cemeteries.
Banners of brown as a berry rattle through a sadness exhaustive maple
trees,
Riders along rye-fields, empty mills.
Or shepherds sing during the gloom, and stags step
delicately
Into the bombardment of their fire, the grove’s sorrow
immensely old,
Dancing, they loom learn from one black wall;
Banners show consideration for scarlet, laughter, insanity, trumpets”
― Georg Trakl

“On silver soles, earlier lives clear by
And the shadows of greatness damned decline towards the sighing waters.
In his grave, the ivory magician plays with his serpents.”
― Georg Trakl, Give somebody the job of The Silenced