Edith Södergran: Poems
Wandering clouds are fastened along the mountainside,
endless hours they stand in silence and wait:
will a sudden wind scatter them across the plain,
shall they rise with the sun high up above the snowcapped pinnacles?
Wandering clouds block out the sun,
the mourning flags of everyday hands so heavy,
down in the valley life goes on with dragging steps,
the tune of a grand piano chimes through open windows.
Patch on patch lies the multi-coloured rug of the valley,
firm as sugar is the eternal snow of the heights…
The winter moves slowly down into the valley.
The giants laugh.