Edith Södergran: Poems
You must leave your old path,
that path is dirty:
men go about with desirous looks there
and you hear the word “happiness” from all lips
and further ahead on the path lies a woman’s body
and the vultures tear it apart.
You have found your new path,
that path is clean:
motherless children walk around playing with poppy flowers there,
women clad in black walk around and speak of sorrow there
and further ahead on the path a pale saint stands
with his foot on the neck of the dead dragon.