Edith Södergran: The Land Which Is Not
The trees of my childhood stand cheering around me: oh Human!
and the grass greets me welcome home from foreign countries.
My head I rest in the grass: mow I’m finally home.
Now I turn my back on all which lie behind me:
my only friends shall be the forest and the beach and the lake.
Now I drink wisdom of the juicy branches of the conifers,
now I drink truth of the dry trunk of the birch,
now I drink power of the smallest and the weakest straw:
a great protector mercifully gives me his hand.