Edith Södergran: The Rose Altar
I once had a sister, a golden child.
In the city she disappeared for me in the masses.
If I among black conifers
see the young birch shake its golden locks
I then remember my sister.
Does she stand wide-eyed among the trees
with beating heart,
does she stretch out her arms towards me?
Sister, my sister, whereto did they lead you?
Which desire-dreams can you dream
on tired beds?
We wait together
for the day of the fairytale!