Edvard Søderberg: Poems of the Street
It darkens in the alley now,
the evening birds they flit along
the tiles and touch with a smile
my sweater’s sleeve
Her there, the little dark one,
whose laughter now we hear,
now she comes towards us!
Look how herself she bears.
The jacket tight in the waist,
and the hair curls on the brow –
What want you? Wait, it seems…
Did we not meet before?
Indeed, it is those looks -
that cheeky laught which me greet;
it is the same brown locks,
and the same lips, the red.
Oh, we have dreamt and loved
and caressed lengthily…
Now she walks here in the street
and sells herself for money.
It darkens, the day bends,
the birds of the evening flit.
My cup was drained to the dregs,
now it’s been re-filled – with filth…