by Eira Stenberg
Almost without noticing,
without thinking, it seems,
you've arrived where you see far.
Thirty years back, more, the path vanishes,
thirty years ahead, more, the path vanishes:
and you're forced to sit down in your own shadow
to think.
Memory,
mother of truth and myth,
tell how the terrain divided the stream.
Copyright ©:
(b.1943) Finland, translated by Hervert Lomas
Last updated May 22, 2011