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.