The aspiration of the lightning

Edith Södergran: The Shadow of the Future

I am an eagle.

It is my confession.

Not poet,

never anything else.

Everything else I despise.

To me there is nothing but circling in the flight of an eagle.

What happens in the flight of an eagle?

Always the same, the eternal.

In the sky a lightning flares in breathless desire

and loves enigmatically like when a new world comes into being.