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JUHANI AHVENJÄRVI

CLAES ANDERSSON

EVA-STINA BYGGMÄSTAR

TOMAS MIKAEL BÄCK

AGNETA ENCKELL

MARTIN ENCKELL

TUA FORSSTRÖM

PENTTI HOLAPPA

JOUNI INKALA

RIINA KATAJAVUORI

JYRKI KIISKINEN

TOMI KONTIO

JUKKA KOSKELAINEN

LEEVI LEHTO

HEIDI LIEHU

RAKEL LIEHU

LAURI OTONKOSKI

MARKKU PAASONEN

ANNUKKA PEURA

MIRKKA REKOLA

HENRIKA RINGBOM

PENTTI SAARITSA

HELENA SINERVO

EIRA STENBERG

ANNI SUMARI

ILPO TIIHONEN

SIRKKA TURKKA

MERJA VIROLAINEN

KJELL WESTÖ (ANDERS HED)

MERJA VIROLAINEN (b. 1962) has published four collections of poems, Hellyyttäsi taitat gardenian (Because of Your Tenderness You Break a Gardenia, 1990), Tervapeili (Tar Mirror, 1995), Pilvet peittävät sisäänsä pilvet (Clouds Encompass Clouds, 2000) and Olen tyttö, ihanaa! (I'm a Girl, Wonderful!, 2004). She has also written a book about shamanism and witchcraft and a play called Täyttymyskomedia (Fulfilment Comedy, 1993). Virolainen has also worked as translator, translating Keats, Shelley, Dickinson and Indian modern poetry among others.
THE ROUGH FRICTION OF OPPOSITES
 

Autumnal night pauses as I pause
moon, my jailer, waits in its place
as I look at grandma's house
once more;
as if a tongue in crevices of teeth
as if fingertips on my face
I remember every nook there.
In the hallway hands of a Sylvania flame
glide over the discarded work clothes,
grandma's scarf on a peg
smells of forehead's sweat and hair,
grandpa's windbreaker with its fish scales.
Aluminium sound off the doorhandle,
the smell of coffee, tobacco --
rabbit roasting in the oven.
The yard light used to swing on the sauna path,
crouched flat in a puddle
like an embryo,
in my red boots, I.

No time was measured by a clock,
money had no value.
Cows were gentle as they pleased,
if only their breath
would breathe in my lines.

Only an embraceless wind anymore
coils itself into a sob in the yard,
only the Wolf-bride wanders now
looking for her beloved;
a black lightning has become a fracture
in the fireplace wall,
bleached curtains, wings without angels
sway in the draft.
Where do I find my love?
How would moss take me into its arms?
Listen, I'll die
before my mother does.
Take me now. You won't get any more than this.


Still

Bottles clink, glasses break

What´s the use of prolonging,...

You put out my heart, like a cig...

Bear Park

That pimply-faced Narcissus

Friend, against my will

This parting of ours, how many...

Quietly sighing like sand

I close my eyes and open again

Oh back, shimmery parchment

This time next year

No, he didn't grow yet

Afterwards everyone leaves

Say, my sagacity, goodbye

I am the last poem

There are no neon lights in Hels...

1.

By speaking from close by

Nothing has been

When a curlew cries

Mother's scent is powder

Grandma, your tissue-paper face...

Autumnal night pauses as I pause


 
From Tervapeili (Tar Mirror), 1995. 
Translated by Seija Paddon.