The last flower of the harvest

Edith Södergran: Poems

I am the last flower of the harvest.

I was rocked in the cradle of summer

and set to watch for the north wind,

red flames burst out

on my white cheek.

I am the last flower of the harvest,

I am the dead spring’s youngest seed,

it is so easy – as the last one – to die:

I have seen the ocean legendary, blue,

I have heard the heartbeat of the dying summer,

my chalice holds just the seeds of death.

 

I am the last flower of the harvest.

I have beheld the deep starry worlds of the harvest,

I have beheld light from distant hearths,

it is so easy to follow the same path,

I shall close the gates of the door.

I am the last flower of the harvest.