Edith Södergran: The Rose Altar
The chalice of suffering must be grasped by weaker hands
and led to paler lips,
my victory lips don’t miss it.
But – no.
In my heart dark giants still sit
with hard fists of stone.
Once they’ll step out of their twilight darkness –
they call you – pain.
Spark-hammer – hit the stone’s image.
Cut out my soul
so it can find words which never sat on human tongues.