Herr: Es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß. (The first line of one of the finest German-language poems) Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.

And then, of course, Trakl, the one who died too early: Verfall (Decay):

Indes wie blasser Kinder Todesreigen
Um dunkle Brunnenränder, die verwittern,
Im Wind sich fröstelnd blaue Astern neigen.

Rilke and Trakl and their poems are very dear to me, and I think of them most when autumn begins, with blue asters shivering in the wind…


For Kerstin via Artmix.


8 thoughts on “Leaves…

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