Sirkka Turkka (b. 1939) has written 12 books, both poetry and prose. She was awarded Finlandia Prize in 1987, Yleisradio’s (the equivalent of the BBC) Tanssiva Karhu (Dancing Bear) prize in 1994 and Eino Leino Prize in 2000. She has also worked as animal attendant and head stableman.
Blessed are the spiritually poor, the wounded.From Tulin tumman metsän läpi, 1999. Translated by Sarka Hantula.
Wisdom doesn’t come until five meters later.
Lord, if You had been here,
my brother wouldn’t have died.
Out of the depths I call Thee, Lord, please hear
my call calling. Against Thee I have
sinned, my sins, shift them east,
not west. From eternal to eternity.
Jesus, our brother, still weeps with the grievers.
Says that last word, please let him go now.
Not any strange text, not from a looking glass.
But face to face.
- Blessed are the spiritually poor
- I don’t want to see Ignatio’s blood
- The horse is yawning, his eyes…
- I’m standing on the roof, it’s…
- Wish for anything you want, anyt…
- In winter a wolf ran cross
- I found a rabbit´s paw in the yard
- Alone, perplexed, an autumn flow…
- The dog sleeps behind checkered…
- They are all there
- We drive the great night and thu…
- And in the sky a dark cloud like…
- I’ve grown thinner
- The theory of relativity is a…
- Autumn, the old horseman pissing
- And the world stood on one leg…