Georg Trakl, an austrian.

The following was written a few days before his death and is an expression of his experience as a medic after the battle of Gródek in the first world war (translated from german by Eric Plattner & Joseph Suglia):

  Grodek 

  This evening the autumn woods are alive
  with exploding arms, the golden fields
  and blue lakes—and above it all the sun
  unfurls the dark. Night surrounds
  the dying men, the unhinged moan
  of crushed mouths.
  And still, in the willows,
  the red cloud, the abiding God, bloodshed itself,
  begins the harvest in mute fury, the moon’s coolness.
  All roads rupture into black rot.
  Under the golden spray of night and stars
  the sister’s shadow staggers across the acquiescent grove
  to greet the ghosts of heroes, their blossoming skulls.
  And beyond human ears the dark flutes of autumn whisper.
  O noble mourning!—you brazen altars,
  the searing flame of the spirit nurtures a vaster ache,
  the grandsons unborn.