Here you will find the Poem In The East of poet Georg Trakl
Like the wild organs of the winter storm Is the people gloomy rage, The purple billow of battle Of stars leaf-stripped. With broken brows, silvery arms The night beckons to dying soldiers. In the autumnal ash-tree?s shade The ghosts of the killed are sighing. Thorny wilderness surrounds the town. From steps that bleeds the moon Drives off dumbfounded women. Wild wolves have burst through the gate.
