The secret of the moon

Edith Södergran: The September Lyre

The moon knows… that I must only float here tonight.

In copper bands over the lake a certainty shines forth:

corpses must lay among the trees on a wonderful beach.

The moon shall cast its most beautiful light on the mysterious beach.

The wind must walk like a watchman’s horn among the firs:

How beautiful the Earth is in this lonely hour.