Katri Vala(1901-1944)
The Sun has gone.
I tremble, sleep flees from my eyes.
I know in the dark poppies glow,
and far cries the lion
its terrible love.
Feels like someone's passionate breath
would on my bare bosom blow.
Blushed I run out
to cool my limbs in a stream.
Woe me,
it's like every tree as a giant flute
would play wild melodies into the night!
[Suuret huilut; Sininen ovi(Porvoo: WSOY 1926), page 14.]
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