Edith Södergran: Poems
No bird strays into my remote corner,
no black swan that comes with longing,
no white gull predicting storm…
In the rock-shadow my wildness watches,
ready to flee at the slightest rustle, for approaching steps…
Bluey and silent is my world, the ecstatic…
I have a gate towards all four winds.
I have a gate towards the east – for the love that never comes,
I have a gate for the day and one for sadness,
I have a gate for death – it is always open.