The moon

Edith Södergran: The Land Which Is Not

How all the dead is wondrous

and impossible to word:

a dead leaf, a dead human

and the sickle of the moon.

And all flowers know a secret

and the forest keeps it:

the wandering of the moon around our Earth

is the path of death.

And the moon spins its wondrous weave,

the one the flowers love,

and the moon spins its legendary net

around all the living.

And the moon-sickle cuts off flowers

in the late night of autumn

and all flowers await the moon’s kiss

in endless longing.