EDITH SDERGRAN

POEMS, 1916
Translated by K. Llewellyn
Kathleyn Llewellyn / Fjordscene Poetry
16-12-2012
EDITH SDERGRAN POEMS, 1916
I saw a tree

I saw a tree that was larger than all others

and hanging full of inaccessible cones,
I saw a large church with open doors
and all the ones coming out were pale, strong,
ready to die;
I saw a woman, smiling and greasepainted
throwing dice over her happiness,
and I saw that she lost.

Around these things were drawn a circle

which none can transgress.
--

The day turns cool

I. The day turns cool towards evening

Drink the warmth of my hand,
my hand has the warm blood of springtime.
Take my hand, take my white arm,
take the longing of my shoulders
Wondrous to feel,
one sole night, a night like this,
your heavy head against my breast.

II. You threw the red rose of your love

into my white lap
in my smoldering hands I squeeze
the red rose of your love, which withers soon
Oh you ruler with cold eyes,
I accept the crown you hand me,
which bends my head down towards my heart

III. I saw my master for the first time today,

trembling I recognized him immediately.
Now I already feel his heavy hand
on my light arm
Where is my chiming virginlaughter,
my womanfreedom with highly raised brow?
Now I already feel his firm grasp
around my trembling body,
now I hear realitys harsh tone
against my fragile, fragile dreams.
IV. You sought a flower
and found a fruit.
You sought a spring
and found a sea.
You sought a woman
and found a soul
you feel betrayed.
--

The old house

Where new eyes look at old times

as strangers who have no heart
I long towards my old graves,
my melancholy greatness cries bitter tears
which nobody sees.
I live incessantly in the sweetness of old days
among strangers who build new cities
on blue hills up against the heavens arch,
I talk quietly with the caught trees
and comfort them sometimes.
Where time slowly corrodes the nature of things,
and the hard heel of fate inaudibly stomps.
I must wait for the mild death
which brings the soul freedom!
--

Nocturne

Silvery moonlit night,

the blueing night waves,
glistening ripples without number
follow after each other.
Shadows fall on the road,
the bushes of the beach cry quietly,
black giant guard the silver of the beach.
The deep stillness in the midst of summer,
sleep and dream
the moon slides over the sea,
white and tender.
--

A wish

Out of all our sunlit world

I wish only for a garden bench
where a cat is enjoying the sun
There I would sit
with a letter at my breast,
one sole small letter.
Thats what my dream looks like
--
The days of autumn

Transparent are the days of autumn,

painted on the golden bottom of the forest
The days of autumn smile to all the world.
It is so lovely to sleep without wishes,
full of flowers and tired of all the green,
with the wines red reed at the bedstead
The autumn day has no more longing,
its fingers are immovably cold,
in its dreams it sees everywhere
how white flakes perpetually fall
--

You who have never left the land of your garden

You who have never left the land of your garden,

have you ever stood longing at the fence
and seen how the evening fades to blue
on dreaming trails?

Was it not a foretaste of uncried tears

that burned like fire on your tongue,
when a bloodred sun disappeared over paths
you never went?
--

I am a stranger in this country

which lies deep beneath the grasping sea,
the sun looks down here with curving rays
and the air flows between my hands.
I was told that I was born imprisoned
that I would recognize no face here.
Was I a rock someone had thrown down to the bottom?
Was I a fruit too heavy for its branch?
Here I stalk at the foot of the whispering tree,
how shall I climb the smooth trunks?
Up there meet the swaying branches,
there I will sit and gaze
for the smoke of my homelands chimneys
--

A stripe of sea

It is a stripe of sea which glistens grey

at the edge of the sky,
it has a dark blue wall
resembling land,
this is where my longing lingers
before it flies home.
--

God

God is a bed we rest on in the All

pure as angels, with saintly blue eyes that answer the greetings of the stars;
god is a pillow we rest the head on, god is a support for our feet;
god is a power supply and a virginal darkness;
god is the pure soul of the unseen and the rotten body of the unthought;
god is the stillwater of eternity;
god is the fertile seed of the void and the handful of ashes from the burned-out worlds;
god is the myriads of insects and the ecstasy of the roses;
god is an empty swing between the void and the All;
god is a prison for all free souls;
god is a harp for the hand of the strongest wrath;
god is what longing can cause to descend to the Earth.
--

Violet dusks

Violet dusks I carry inside me from my ancient past,

naked virgins at play with galloping centaurs
Yellow sunny days with sparkling appearances,
only sunbeams worthily envelop a loving female body
The man hasnt come, has never been, shall never be
The man is a fake mirror which the suns daughter angrily throws against the cliff,
the man is a lie which white children dont understand,
the man is a rotten fruit which proud lips deceive.

Beautiful sisters, come on up on the strongest cliffs,

we are all warrioresses, heroides, knightesses,
innocence-eyes, heaven-brows, rose-larvae,
heavy surfs and lost birds,
we are the least expected and the deepest red,
tigerspots, tightened strings, stars without dizziness.
--

Uneasy dreams

Far away from happiness I lie asleep on an island in the sea.

The fogs rise and fall and the wind shifts,
I dream uneasy dreams about wars and bacchanals,
that my beloved stands on a ship and watches
the flying swallows and feels no longing!
Theres something heavy inside of him which cannot move,
he sees the ship slide by into the unwilling future,
the sharp keel cuts itself into the unwilling fate,
wings carry him into the land where all that he does is in vain,
in the land of empty, idle days far away from fate
--
Vierge Moderne

I am no woman. I am a neutrum.
I am a child, a page and a quick decision,
I am a laughing stripe of scarlet sun
I am a net for all ferocious fish,
I am a toast to the honour of all women,
I am a step towards spontaneity and ruin,
I am a leap in liberty and self
I am the whisper of blood in the mans ear,
I am the feverish cramp of the soul, the lusts and defenses of the flesh,
I am entry sign to the new paradise.
I am a flame, seeking and bold,
I am a water, deep but daring, all the way up to the knees,
I am fire and water in honest connection on free terms
--

The longing of the colours

For the sake of my own paleness I love red, blue and yellow,
the great whiteness is sorrowful like the snowy twilight
when Snow-whites mother sat by the window and wished for black and red as well.
The longing of the colours is that of the blood. If you thirst for beauty
you must close your eyes and look into your own heart.
But beauty fears the day and too many stares,
but beauty cannot bear noise and too much commotion
you shall not lead your heart to your lips,
we should not disturb the grand realm of silence and loneliness, -
what is greater to meet than an unsolved riddle with strange features?
Silent shall I be all my life,
a speaker is like the babbling brook that gives itself away;
a lonesome tree shall I be on the plain,
the tree in the forest perishes with longing for storm,
I shall be healthy from head to heel with golden stripes in the blood,
I shall be pure and innocent like a flower licking its lips.
--

Towards all four winds

No bird strays into my remote corner,

no black swan that comes with longing,
no white gull predicting storm
In the rock-shadow my wildness watches,
ready to flee at the slightest rustle, for approaching steps
Bluey and silent is my world, the ecstatic
I have a gate towards all four winds.
I have a gate towards the east for the love that never comes,
I have a gate for the day and one for sadness,
I have a gate for death it is always open.
--
Our sisters wear multi-coloured garments

Our sisters wear multi-coloured garments,

our sisters stand near the water and sing,
our sisters sit on rocks and wait,
they have water and air in their baskets
and call it flowers.
But I throw my arms around a cross and cry.
I was once as soft as a sap green leaf
and hung high in the blue air,
when two blades were crossed inside me
and a victorious master led me to his lips.
His hardness was so tender that I didnt break,
he fastened a shining star on my brow
and left me trembling with tears
on an island called winter.
--

The last flower of harvest

I am the last flower of harvest.

I was rocked in the cradle of summer
and set to watch for the north wind,
red flames burst out
on my white cheek.
I am the last flower of harvest,
I am the dead springs youngest seed,
it is so easy as the last one to die:
I have seen the ocean legendary, blue,
I have heard the heartbeat of the dying summer,
my chalice has just the seeds of death.

I am the last flower of harvest.

I have beheld the deep starry worlds of the harvest,
I have beheld light from distant hearths,
it is so easy to follow the same path,
I shall close the gates of the door.
I am the last flower of harvest.
--

The pale lake of autumn

The pale lake of autumn

dreams heavy dreams
of a spring-white island
which sunk into the sea.

Pale lake of autumn,

how your ripples hide,
how your mirror forgets
days must die.
The pale lake of autumn
carries its high sky lightly and quietly
like life and death who for a moment
in a sleeping wave have kissed each other.
--

Autumn

The naked trees stand around my house

and let in sky and air without pause,
the naked trees move down to the beach
and reflect themselves in the water.
Still plays a child in the grey smoke of autumn
and a girl walks with flowers in her hand
and at the heavens arch
silvery white birds take off.
--

Black or white?

The rivers run under the bridges,

the flowers shine alongside the roads,
the forests bend themselves whispering to the ground.
For me nothing is anymore high or low,
black or white,
for I have seen a whiteclad woman
in my lovers arm.
--

The stars

When the night comes

I stand on the stair and listen,
the stars are swarming in the garden
and I stand in the darkness.
Listen; the sound of a falling star!
Dont walk barefoot out into the grass
my garden is full of splinters.
--

Two beach poems

I. My life was naked

like the grey cliffs,
my life was cold
like the white heights,
but my youth sat with burning cheeks
and cheered: the sun comes!
And the sun came and I lay naked
all day long on the grey cliffs
a cold breath came from the red sea:
the sun goes down!
II. Between grey stones
lies your white body mourning
the days that come and go.
The fairytales you heard as a child
cry in your heart.
Silence without echo,
loneliness without mirror,
the air blues through all cracks.
--

Theres a candle in the window

Theres a candle in the window

which slowly burns
and tells that somebody died in there.
Some conifers silence
around a path which abruptly ends
at a cemetery in mist.
A bird chirps
who is in there?
--

Wandering clouds

Wandering clouds are fastened along the mountainside,

endless hours they stand in silence and wait:
will a sudden wind scatter them across the plain,
shall they rise with the sun high up above the snowcapped pinnacles?
Wandering clouds block out the sun,
the mourning flags of everyday hands so heavy,
down in the valley life goes on with dragging steps,
the tune of a grand piano sings through open windows.
Patch on patch lies the multi-coloured rug of the valley,
firm as sugar is the eternal snow of the heights
The winter moves slowly down into the valley.
The giants laugh.
--

The forest lake

I was alone at the light beach

near the pale blue forest lake,
a lone cloud floated in the sky,
on the water a lone island.
The ripened sweetness of summer
was dripping from every tree,
down into my open heart ran
a tiny droplet.
--
The starry night

Unnecessary suffering,
unnecessary waiting,
the world is as empty as your laughter.
The stars are falling
cold and lovely night.
Love smiles in its sleep,
love dreams of eternity
Unnecessary fear, unnecessary pain,
the world is less than nothing,
down into the depths slides from the hand of love
the ring of eternity.
--

Words

Warm words, beautiful words, deep words

Theyre like the scent of a flower in the night
that you dont see.
Behind them lurks the empty space
Perhaps they are the curling smoke
from the warm hearth of love?
--

The path to happiness

Nobody should understand it

when the miraculous happens
theres no road to happiness,
nobody remembers a lucky path
which leads to the door of happiness.

Oh, to chase the bird of happiness

is to wander without paths
and to grasp without hands.
To become king in the fairytale of happiness
is to stand surprised and dumb.

A miracle we expect of the day,

the day withers cold and pale.
Ask again, you tired brain,
is your dream, your lucky star,
illusion and deception?
--

Forest darkness

In the melancholy forest

lives a sick god.
In the dark forest the flowers are pale
and the birds shy.
Why is the wind full of warning whispers
and the road dark with sinister premonitions?
In the shadow lies the sick god
and dreams bad dreams
--

In the vast forest

In the vast forest I long wandered lost,

I sought the fairytales my childhood had heard.

In the tall mountains I long wandered lost,

I sought the dream-castles my youth had built.

In my beloveds garden I didnt get lost,

there sat the happy cuckoo my longing had followed.
--

Joycat

I have a joycat in my arms,

it purrs and spins the thread of joy.
Joycat, my jopycat,
get me these things:
get me a golden ring
which says that Im happy;
get me a mirror
which says that Im beautiful,
get me a fan
which waves away my sinister thoughts.
Joycat, my joycat,
purr and spin me a bit more about my future.
--

The light daughter of the forest

Was it not yesterday

the light daughter of the forest celebrated her wedding
and everybody was so happy?
She was the light bird and the bright spring,
she was the hidden road and the laughing bush,
she was the intoxicating, fearless summer night.
She was immodest, laughed so overstrung,
for she was the light daughter of the forest;
she had become the instrument of the cuckoo
and went playing from lake to lake.

When the light daughter of the forest celebrated her wedding

nobody was unhappy on Earth:
the light daughter of the forest knows no longing,
she is blond and realizes all dreams,
she is pale and awakens everybodys lust.
When the light daughter of the forest celebrated her wedding
the conifers stood joyful on the hill
and the firs stood proud on the steep brink
and the juniper bushes stood happy on the sunny slope,
and all the little flowers wore white collars.
Then, the forests let the seeds fall in humans hearts,
the glittering lakes floated in their eyes
and the white butterflies flitted endlessly past.
--

We women

We women, were so close to the brown earth.

We ask the cuckoo what it expects of the spring,
we embrace the naked trunk of the fir
and search for signs and advice in the sunset.

I loved a man once, he believed in nothing

He came a cold day with empty eyes,
he went a happy day with forgetfulness on his face.
If my child doesnt live, then its his
--

Early dawn

The last stars of night shine faintly.

I see them from my window. The sky is pale,
you barely sense the day in the distance.
A silence rests over the lake,
a whisper lurks between the trees,
my old garden listens absent-mindedly
to the breath of the night which rustles over the road.
--

Nordic spring

All my castles in the air have melted like snow,

all my dreams have flowed away like water,
out of everything I have loved I have but little left
a blue sky and some pale stars.
The wind passes quietly through the trees.
The emptiness rests. The water is still.
The old conifer stands awake and thinks
of the white sky he kissed in dreams.
--

The mourning garden

Oh, to observe windows

and recall walls,
that a garden can be knowing
and a tree can turn around and ask:
Who hasnt come and what isnt good,
why is the emptiness heavy and says nothing?
The bitter carnations stand close along the way
where the darkness of the conifers become inscrutable.
--

The mysterious sea

In the depths glide strange fishes,

unknown flowers shine on the beach;
I have seen red and yellow and all other colours, -
but the vast, vast sea is the most dangerous to behold,
it makes me thirsty and awoken for waiting adventures:
what happens in the legend will happen to me too!
--

The low beach

The light birds high in the air

dont fly for me,
but the heavy stones on the low beach
rest for me.
Long did I lay at the foot of the sinister mountain
and listen to the winds command
in the strong branches of the fir.

Here I lay on my stomach and stare straight ahead:

here everything is strange and awakens no memories,
my thoughts werent born here in this place;
here the air is rough and the stones slippery,
here everything is dead and calls for no amusement,
except for the broken flute the spring abandoned on the beach.
--

The song on the mountain

The sun went down over the foam of the sea and the beach slept
and up in the mountains someone was singing
When the words fell into the water they were dead
And the song disappeared behind the firs and the twilight led it away.
When all was silent I only thought
that there was lifeblood on the dark evening-rocks,
dimly did I sense that the song was
about what never returns.
--

The foreign lands

How my soul loves the foreign lands,

as if it had no homeland.
In distant countries stand the big rocks
which my thoughts linger on.
It was a stranger who wrote the strange words
on the hard screen called my soul.
Days and nights I lay thinking
of things that never have happened:
my thirsty soul once got something to drink.
--

Evening

I dont want to hear the sad legend

the forest tells.
It whispers yet long between the conifers,
it sighs yet long between the leaves,
yet long slides the shadows between the sinister trunks.
Come out on the road. Nobody meets us there.
The evening dreams pale red along the silent roadsides.
The road runs slowly and the road slowly rises
and looks lengthily around for the suns glow.
--

Let not your pride fall

Let not your pride fall,

dont walk naked
to his arms in tenderness,
walk rather away in tears
that the world has never seen
and never scorned.

It was so easy and simple for pure childhearts

to follow the trail of happiness,
but our souls can only tremble.
For the one who has seen the filth in the short Spring of happiness
there is but one thing left:
the burning hot shiver of cold.
--

Two goddesses

When you saw the face of happiness you were disappointed:

this sleeping woman with loose features
was the most worshipped, the most mentioned,
the least known of all goddesses,
she who rules over tranquil oceans,
blooming gardens, endless days of sunshine,
and you decided never to serve her.

Closer you felt the pain with the depth in the eyes,
the never invoked,
the best known and least understood of all goddesses,
she who rules over oceans in uproar and sinking ships,
over those who are trapped for a lifetime,
and over the heavy curses which rest with the children in the mothers wombs.
--

Leave

Willful and cold my heart became

when I began longing for your caresses.
My sisters have not yet felt
that I no longer look at them
I no longer speak to anybody
How often dont I kiss
the tiny kitten that sleeps near my breast.
Id want to call it a bit sad,
but my heart is happy and laughs at everything.

Sisters, I do what I never wanted,

sisters, hold me back
I dont want to leave you.
When I close my eyes hes standing in front of me,
I have many thoughts for him and none for all others.
--------
My life has become threatening like a stormy sky,
my life has become fake like reflecting water,
my life walks a tightrope high in the air:
I dare not look at it.
All the wishes I had yesterday
wither like the lowest leaves of the palmtree,
all the prayers I said yesterday
are useless and unanswered.
All of my words Ive taken back,
and all that I owned Ive given to the poor,
who wished me happiness.
When I really think about it
I have nothing left of myself except my black hair,
my two long locks which curl like snakes.
My lips have turned to the red-hot coals,
I no longer remember when they started burning
Terrible was the great fire which laid waste to my youth.
Oh, the inevitable comes like the cut of a sword
I go without taking leave, unnoticed,
I leave completely and never return.
--

A caught bird

A bird was caught in a golden cage

in a white castle by the deep blue sea.
Soulful roses promised desire and happiness.
And the bird sang of a small town in the high mountains,
where the sun is king and the silence queen
and where poor little flowers in shining colours
bear witness to the life which defy and endure.
--

Advice

And the queen asked her secret adviser:

Who is the evil woman my consort loves?
- He loves all the women who light his blood on fire
But which one shall I fight the most?
- Your own black mind you shall fight the most.
But how shall I fight my own black mind?
- Let the messenger kiss you, when the sun goes down.
--

Sorrows

Sister, fair one, dont go into the mountains:

they deceived me,
they had nothing to offer my longing.
As a souvenir I broke a branch off the fir
which shaded the road, as lush as a spring bush,
and I sought back to the ocean in my old tracks.
A thousand playthings have the ocean crushed and thrown up on the sand
in vain I search for some jewelry that can give shine to my beauty.
Come, sit by me, I shall tell you of my sorrows,
we shall speak to each other about secrets.
You shall show me your beauty and your gaze
and I shall offer you my silence and my habit of listening.
--

My soul

My soul cannot tell and know of any truth,

my soul can only cry and wring its hands;
my soul cannot remember and defend,
my soul cannot consider and confirm.
When I was a child I saw the ocean: it was blue,
in my youth I met a flower: she was red,
now a stranger sits by my side: he is colourless,
but I fear him no more than the maid fears the dragon.
When the knight came the maid was red and white,
but I have dark shadows under my eyes.
--

Love

My soul was a light blue suit of the skys colour;

I left it on a cliff near the sea
and came to you naked and looked like a woman.
And as a woman I sat at your table
and drank a cup of wine and felt the smell of roses.
You thought I was beautiful and resembles something you had seen in dreams,
I forgot all, I forgot my childhood and my homeland,
I only knew that your caresses kept me caught.
And smiling you took a mirror and bade me see myself.
I saw that my shoulders were of dust which crumbled,
I saw that my beauty was sick and I wanted just one thing to disappear.
Oh, hold me in your arms so tight that I need nothing.
--

The mirroring well

Fate said: white you must live or red you shall die!
But my heart decided: red shall I live.
Now I live in the country where all is yours,
death never enters this realm.
All day I sit with my arms resting on the marble of the well,
when Im asked if happiness has been here,
I shake my head and laugh:
happiness is far away, there theres a young woman hemming a childs blanket,
happiness is far away, there theres a man in the forest building himself a hut.
Here the red roses grow around the bottomless wells,
here beautiful days mirror their mild features
and large flowers lose their most beautiful petals
--

The song about the three graves

She sang in the darkness of dusk at the dewy wet fence:

In the summer three rose bushes grew at three graves.

In the first grave a man lies

he sleeps heavily.

In the second a woman with sorrowful features lies

she holds a rose in her hand.

The third grave is a spiritgrave and it is not blessed,

a sinister angel sits there every night and sings:
to avoid is unforgivable.
--

The strange tree

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 which 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 happy.
--

Two paths

You must leave your old path,

that path is dirty:
there men go with desirous looks
and you hear the word happiness from all lips
and further ahead on the path lies a womans body
and the vultures tear it apart.

You have found your new path,

that path is clean:
there motherless children walk around playing with poppy flowers,
there women clad in black walk around and speak of sorrow
and further ahead on the path a pale saint stands
with his foot on the neck of the dead dragon.
--

Three sisters

The first sister loved the sweet strawberries,

the second sister loved the red roses,
the third sister loved the wreaths of the dead.

The first sister married:

it is said that shes happy.

The second sister loved with all her soul,

it is said the she became unhappy.

The third sister became a saint,

it is said that she wins the crown of the eternal life.
--

Christian confession of faith

Happiness is not what we dream of,

happiness is not the night we remember,
happiness is not contained in the song of our longing.

Happiness is something we never wanted,

happiness is something we hardly understand,
happiness is the cross thats raised for everybody.
--
Beauty

What is beauty? Ask all the souls in the world

beauty is everything superfluous, every spark, every swelling and great poverty;
beauty is to be true to the summer and naked by the autumns side;
beauty is the parrots feathercoat or the sunset heralding storm;
beauty s a sharp feature and a certain tone of voice: it is me,
beauty is a great loss and a silent parade of mourners,
beauty is the light movement of the fan which awakens the breath of fate;
beauty is the desire of the rose or forgiveness for all because the sun shines;
beauty is the cross the monk has chosen or the necklace the mistress receives from her lover,
beauty is not the thin sauce poets serve themselves in,
beauty is to wage war and search for happiness,
beauty is to serve higher purposes.
--

The kings sorrow

The word sorrow the king forbade at court,

Unhappiness, love, happiness, which all hurt,
but she and her were still left.
His queen caressed him like a child,
in the twilight hours he lay by her breast
with eyes wide open with pain.
He listened with anxiety for all steps by the door
and reluctance spread across his face.
If the girls at the farm laugh like silvery grey springs
the king turned pale and changed the subject.
No young women with blonde locks
were anymore allowed to show themselves with uncovered heads
and the little dancers in short dresses
were all expelled from court.
When it turned spring the king didnt go out into the garden,
he lay in his north-facing room
The spring peeped pale blue through the glass.
--

Lifes sister

Life looks most like death, her sister.

Death is no different,
you can caress her and hold her hand and stroke her hair,
she will hand you a flower and smile.
You can hide your face at her bosom
and hear her say: its time to go.
She shall not tell you that she is someone else.
Death doesnt lay green and pale with her face to the ground
or outstretched on the white stretcher:
Death walks around with glowing cheeks and talks to everybody.
Death has vague features and pious cheeks,
at your heart she will lay her soft hand.
The one who has felt the soft hand at his heart
the sun doesnt warm,
he is cold as ice and loves nobody.
--

From Liliputs Saga

Finally the lazy arose

he put his hands in every flower vase,
he felt under every leaf,
he sought the black worm in order to kill it.
While he slept in the shape of a grass straw
the black worm ate his head.
Three women came to his funeral:
his sister cried; by her side stood a dancer in violet veils,
she came only to be seen.
Alone went a woman he never loved.
--

At the beach

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 love only the sea in an uproar.
I live in a cave with many bats,
but I am fine and white with deceitful eyes.
My feet are the most beautiful Ive seen,
I continually wash them in water and foam.
My hands are beautiful and shining,
I sparkle like all of the jolly and smiling coast.
Everybody who passes meets my gaze
so 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
--

Life

I, my own prisoner, say:

life is not springtime clad in light green velvet
or a caress you rarely receive,
life is not a decision about walking
or two white arms holding you back.
Life is the narrow ring keeping us captive,
the invisible circle we never transcend,
life is the close happiness which passes us by,
and a thousand steps were unable to take.
Life is to despise oneself
and lay immobile at the bottom of a well
and know that the sun shines up there
and golden birds fly through the air
and the lightning-fast days shoot past.
Life is to wave a quick goodbye and return home to sleep
Life is to be a stranger to oneself
and a new mask for each and every one who comes.
Life is to act thoughtlessly with your own happiness
and to push away the only moment,
life is to believe oneself weak and nothing dare.
--

Hell

Oh, how lovely Hell is!

In Hell nobody speaks of death.
The walls of Hell rest in the Earths core
and is decorated with smoldering flowers
In Hell nobody speaks empty words
In Hell nobody has drunk and nobody slept
and nobody rests and nobody stays still.
In Hell nobody speaks, everybody screams,
tears arent tears there, and all sorrows are without power.
In Hell nobody gets sick or tired.
Hell is unchangeable and eternal.
--

The pain

Happiness has no songs, happiness has no thoughts, happiness has nothing.

Punch your happiness so it bursts, for happiness is evil.
Happiness comes quietly with morning-winds in sleeping greenery,
happiness slides away in light cloud-images over deep blue ravines,
happiness is the field which sleeps in the midday glow
and the endless plain of the sea under the baking, vertical rays,
happiness is powerless, it sleeps and breathes and knows of nothing
Do you know the pain? It is strong and great with secret fists.
Do you know the pain? It smiles comforting with teary eyes.
The pain gives us all we need
it gives us the keys to the realm of death,
it shoves us through the gate when we hesitate.
The pain baptizes the children and holds vigil at the mothers side
and smiths all golden bridal rings.
The pain rules over all, it straightens out the furrowed brow of the thinker,
it hangs the jewelry around the neck of the adored woman,
it stands in the door when the man returns from his beloved
What more does the pain give its loved ones?
I know of no more.
It gives pearls and flowers, it gives songs and dreams,
it gives thousands of kisses which are all empty,
it gives the one and only true kiss.
It gives us our enigmatic souls and strange thoughts,
it gives us the greatest of all lifes prizes:
love, loneliness, the face of death.
--

The waiting soul

I am alone between the trees by the lake,

I live in friendship with the old conifers of the beach
and in secret understanding with all young rowans.
Alone do I lay and wait,
nobody have I seen walk past.
Large flowers watch me from tall stems,
bitter bindweeds creep into my arms,
I have one name for all, and that is love.
--