By Edith Södergran
No bird strays here into my hidden corner,
no black swallow that brings longing,
no white gull that tides a storm…
In the shadow of the rocks my wildness stays awake,
ready to fly at the slightest whisper, at approaching steps…
Soundless and blue is my world, blessed…
I have a door to all four winds.
I have a golden door to the east – for love that never comes,
I have a door for day and another for sadness,
I have a door for death – that one is always open.
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