Edith Södergran: Poems
The strange tree stands with colourful fruits,
the strange tree stands with purple pollen
on a sunny slope and whispers quietly:
come, come, you golden daughter, you who wander in the autumn, you who listen in the forest,
I will tell you wherefrom happiness came and whereto it goes.
Place your fingers on my back and I will
envelop your limbs in the glory of autumn.
Come, come, tender one, fantastic one, happy one, red one,
I will show you the path nobody can find on their own…
Come, come, pale one, who desire the blood,
you must go far from here, to where nobody knows you,
there you will meet Eastern eyes,
they never ask questions, they only rest in sadness…
Far from home you must live – happily.