At the beach

Edith Södergran: Poems

When it rains and the sea is grey I become ill…

I laugh with the sun, blow with the wind and get turned on with the sea:

I only love the sea in uproar.

I live in a cave with many bats,

but I am fine and white with deceitful eyes.

My feet are the most beautiful I’ve seen,

I continually wash them in water and foam.

My hands are beautiful and shining,

I sparkle like the whole of the jolly and smiling coast.

Everybody who passes meets my gaze

whereby restfulness and desire fill them for life.

Oh, but when I rest my head in my hand –

what is it that always hurts so much?

I hit a cliff hard once back when I wanted to die,

because I had stretched out my arm in vain

towards a stranger I had once seen…