Landet som icke är — Zemlja koje nema — The Land That Didn't Exist — The Land That is Not

(1922)

 

prijevod:   Mirko Romac        

 

Finland-Swedish modernism was introduced by Edith Södergran (1892-1923).
She didn't receive much recognition in her lifetime, but is now regarded one of Finland's foremost poets.
She was first influenced by French symbolism, then German expressionism and Russian futurism,
and creatively applied these to her own poetry. Her free rhythm, strong,
challenging images fired by a Nietzschean self-conscience and conviction of the importance
of her message were new and baffling to the Finnish audience,
and she was almost without exception misunderstood and even ridiculed.
Her first collection of poems was Dikter (Poems, 1916), which was followed by Rosenaltaret (The Rose Altar, 1919)
and Landet som icke är (The land that is not, 1925) among others.
Always physically weak and somewhat sickly, she died young just as she was starting to get followers.

Her last work, The land that is not, is a collection of resigned, intimate poems written close to the end of her life.
They were assembled
by the poet Elmer Diktonius and published posthumously.

 

[ Edith Södergran ]

Back           Next

PAGE 1 (Poezija - Poetry) | PAGE 2 (Poezija - Poetry) | PAGE 3 (Poezija - Poetry) | PAGE 4 (Poezija - Poetry) |

PAGE 5 (Poezija - Poetry)PAGE 6 (Poezija - Poetry)PAGE 7 (Poezija - Poetry) |

 

| Index: A - I (Poezija - Poetry)Index: J - Q (Poezija - Poetry) | Index: R - Z (Poezija - Poetry) |

Poets & Poems  - pjesnici i pjesme   [ abecedni popis pjesnika (djelomican popis) ] |

o smrti (...i zivotu...) - about death (...and life...) [ 01.11. - 02.11. ] (poezija - poetry) |

 

Please Sign My GuestBookView My Old GuestBook Sto je novo...? - What's New...?Logo | HomeExit |

 

 

Edith Södergran

(1892 - 1923)


Finland-Swedish Writer

© Carmen Ezgeta

Ceznem za zemljom koje nema  
jer sam umorna od onog sto postoji.  
Mjesec mi srebrnim runama pripovjeda    
o zemlji koje nema.    
Zemlji, u kojoj ce nam sve zelje ispunjene biti,    
zemlji, u kojoj ce nam svi lanci spasti,    
zemlji, u kojoj cemo hodati izderana cela    
na mjesecevoj rosi.  
Zivot je moj bio uzbudjeno traganje.  
Al jedno ipak nadjoh, jedno ipak otkrih:
put prema zemlji koje — nema...

                                       Jag längtar till landet som icke är,
                             ty allting som är, är jag trött att begära.
                                 Månen berättar mig i silverne runor
                                       om landet som icke är.
             Landet, där all vår önskan blir underbart
                           uppfylld,
               landet, där alla våra kedjor falla,
   landet, där vi svalka vår sargade panna
                               i månens dagg.
  Mitt liv var en het villa.
Men ett har jag funnit och ett har jag
                       verkligen vunnit —
                               vägen till landet som icke är.

           I landet som icke är
         där går min älskade med gnistrande krona.
   Vem är min älskade? Natten är mörk
                               och stjärnorna dallra till svar.
                       Vem är min älskade? Vad är hans namn?
         Himlarna välva sig högre och högre,
                 och ett människobarn drunknar i ändlösa
                                             dimmor
       och vet intet svar.
Men ett människobarn är ingenting annat
                       än visshet.
             Och det sträcker ut sina armar högre än
                                             alla himlar.
                 Och det kommer ett svar: Jag är den du
                                                 älskar och alltid skall älska.

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 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.  

Edith Södergran