Edith Södergran: Poems
Nobody should understand it
when the miraculous happens –
there’s no road to happiness,
nobody remembers a lucky path
that leads to the door of happiness.
Oh, to chase the bird of happiness
is to wander without paths
and to grasp without hands.
To become king in the fairytale of happiness
is to stand surprised and dumb.
A miracle we expect of the day,
the day withers cold and pale.
Ask again, you tired brain,
is your dream, your lucky star,
illusion and deception?