The black snow runs down from the rooftops;
A red finger dips into your brow;
Blue snow flakes sink into the empty room,
They are a lovers’ dying mirrors.
Heavy and torn to pieces the mind muses,
Follows the shadow in the mirror of blue snow flakes,
The cold smile of a deceased harlot.
The evening’s wind weeps in the scent of carnations.
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Comments1It's been awhile since I last revisited Georg Trakl's "Delirium". I remember being moved by it as a young reader. It's got such a haunting melancholy that has managed to stick with me through the years. But what exactly is the harlot's cold smile symbolizing here? There's much to be unpacked in this dark, yet beautiful piece.