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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
 

There are no neon lights in Helsinki,
not a single car, nor a pizzeria!
I see only impressions on faces, shoulders, in the city,
your eyes where
the shadow of a linden tree on the Esplanade
suddenly emerges, dark
as a cloud above gives way.
Here weeping willow trails its hair
in the waters of Töölö Bay,
reeds rustle at a wave's touch;
the maple blooms along my street
against a clear blue sky.
Sweet city!

Here I only see you, always you
as in the forest of friends
a bonfire burns between us
the way even silence in the Central Library is hushed
as we walk a moment, bright
towards each other
like Petrarch and Laura.

Why would I see neon lights, cars, pizzerias?
I don't miss them; I can't see through them.
Poor me! Even the Eiffel-tower to me would
probably be a mere bed post!
Only desire makes things exist for me,
all sense is longing.


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.