Arrival in Hades

Edith Södergran: The Land Which Is Not

Look, here’s the beach of eternity

where the stream runs past,

and death plays in the bushes

its certain, repetitive melody.

 

Death, why do you silence?

We were long underway

and long to hear,

we never had a wet-nurse

who could sing like you do.

 

The wreath that never adorned my brow

I silently lay at your feet.

Now show me a wondrous country

where the tall palm-trees stand

and where the waves of longing

run between the rows of columns.