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.