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carrex β Broken tree
Published: 2011-01-20 22:05:00 +0000 UTC; Views: 1466; Favourites: 26; Downloads: 49
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Description
Georg TraklRelated content
Comments: 20
This is so sweet and sad! It reminds me many walks of my childhood.
I like the figure of father and son on the left.
This picture is extremely expressive. Fantastic!
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C'est vraiment un plaisir
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tes dessins sont magnifique, Antoine! j'aime l'aquarelle
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J'adore tes photos
Impatient de voir la suite !
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another beauty! i love the focus on the broken tree with all else slightly out of focus. it adds to the dream
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Thank you dear! I really love this photo ... I edited it, and simultaneously read Georg Trakl
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a wonderful combination and obviously, a great inspiration for you.
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how do you do this that all your lanscapes look so surreal .... ?
as always ... great photo ... must be in my collection
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Thanks friend! I do not know why my pictures look surreal
it's just a state of mind
every soul
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hi 
i hope you will like the comment
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Sleep and death, the dusky eagles
Around this head swoop all night long;
Eternityβs icy wave
Would swallow the golden image
Of man; against horrible reefs
His purple body is shattered.
And the dark voice laments
Over the sea.
Sister of stormy sadness,
Look a timid dinghy goes down
Under stars,
The silent face of the night.
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great!
for you
The dark fall swells with fruit and abundance,
the yellowed glare of garish summer days.
A pure blueness steps from the ruined husk.
Shadows flap from the ancient myth.
The wine is pressed, benign silence
fraught with the whispered reply to murkier questions.
And here and there a cross on a barren hill.
In the red woods a flock loses itself.
The cloud wanders into the pondβs mirror.
A peasantβs stormless gesture is put to rest.
Below oneβs breath the evening wings of grief stir
the dry reeds of our rooftop, the black earth.
Before long the stars will nestle in his weary brow.
In the chilled room a mute humility turns back
and angels tread softly from the blue
eyes of lovers, that more gentle ache.
Reeds hiss. A bone-ridden horror dawns.
Black dew drips from the shaven fields.
[link]
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Trakl is a master. I always loved his poems.
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