Georg Trakl: On the Eastern Front
A poem a day
International WWI Poetry Month
On the Eastern Front
Georg Trakl (Austria, 1914)
The winter storm’s mad organ playing
is like the Volk’s dark fury,
the black-red tidal wave of onslaught,
Her features smashed, her arms silver,
Night calls to the dying men,
Beneath shadows of November’s ash,
ghost causalities heave.
A spiky no-man’s-land encloses the town.
The moon hunts petrified women
from their blood-spattered doorsteps.
Grey wolves have forced the gates.