Edith Södergran: 3 poems

Edith Södergran

1892-1923

The Land That Is Not

I long for the land that is not,
For all that is, I am weary of wanting.
The moon speaks to me in silvern runes
About the land that is not.
The land where all our wishes become wondrously fulfilled,
The land where all our fetters fall,
The land where we cool our bleeding forehead
In the dew of the moon.
My life was a burning illusion,
But one thing I have found and one thing I have really won -
The road to the land that is not.

In the land that is not
My beloved walks with a glittering crown.
Who is my beloved?  The night is dark
And the stars quiver in reply.
Who is my beloved?  What is his name?
The heavens arch higher and higher
And a human child is drowned in the endless fogs
And knows no reply.
But a human child is nothing but certainty.
And it stretches its arms higher than all heavens.
And there comes a reply:
I am the one you love and always shall love.

The Armored Train

Fifty coaches of hopes I loaded up for your America.
They came back empty…
Disappointment cargo
Now I’m sending an armored train with stonehard masks in the threatening portholes:
thousands of packed coaches are coming home.

Littleoldman

Littleoldman sits around counting eggs.
Every time he counts, one egg is lost.
My friends, don’t show him your gold.

Edith Södergran poetry
kempis poetry magazine

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