THE FLOWERS OF SEPTEMBER

Kaarlo Sarkia(1902-1945)

Your voice I don't hear, your hand I don't get, when I awake

at the dawning of September's reddening mornings.

Dawn's flame flares into Matthiola's pearly coil

and mauve in the cranberries rubifies.

You are gone.

Yet flowers of memories, so large, one after another

into awareness blossom and to the eye's pupil rise.

Soon the herbs of the earth will sleep in the linen of the snowdrift,

but in the purple of the blood

still blaze the flowers of a certain spring.

(Syyskuun kukkia; Unen Kaivo, 1936.)

#KaarloSarkia #Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse