Edith Södergran: The Rose Altar
Now the Earth envelops itself in black again. It is the storm
which rises out of nightly ravines and lonely
dances its ghost-dance over the Earth.
Now humans fight again – phantom against phantom.
What do they want, what do they know? They’re herded
like cattle by dark stables,
chained forever with the chains of chance:
the great ideas herd their prey in front of them.
The ideas stretch protecting arms against the storm in vain,
he, the dancing, knows that he alone is master of the Earth.
The world is not its own master. The one shall
crash like a burning house, like a rotten tree,
the other stay standing, spared by unknown hands.
And the sun sees all this, and the stars sparkle in icy cold nights
and humans sneak away on their lonely way towards the happiness that has no boundaries.