Now it is fall

 

when all the golden birds

fly home across the blue deep water;

On shore I sit rapt in its scattering

                                                       glitter;

departure rustles through the trees.

This farewell is vast and separation draws close,

but reunion, that also is certain.

My head on my arm I fall asleep easily.

On my eyes a mother’s breath,

from her mouth to my heart:

sleep, child, and dream now the sun is gone.—

 

By Edith Södergran 1892–1923 Edith Sodergran

Translated from the Swedish by Averill Curdy Read the translator's notes