Taken from an anthology entitled _Music While Drowning_. _Summer_ Evenings the cuckoo’s complaint Fades from the woods. Wheat bends lower. The red poppies. Black clouds threaten Above the hill. The old song of the cricket Dies away in the fields. The chestnut leaves Never stir. On the winding stair Your dress rustles. Candle burning quietly In the dark room – A silver hand Snuffs it out. Windless unstarry night.                         GEORG TRAKL             (Translated by Keith Waldrop) # Explanation