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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
 

This parting of ours, how many have there been?
Every time it is equally unusual,
the smokeblue of heart
alone moves blood.
These verses are not lyricism
but brutality.
One step from suicide
to exchange one's life with verse,
a dubious exchange:
I play myself.
How long this time?
The scent of winter in a rose is lovely;
I cannot write without our separations.
I don't long for you,
but without longing
I lose my voice.

That is how in an embrace death and loneliness
gave birth to truth,
but even that fell off a shoulder
so that I would get what exists.
I don't long for your small lights,
you carry them like shields.

How many times did you separate from me?
The Wolf-bride doesn't miss a singer
on her body pierced like a sieve,
light looks through the cavity that is my heart,
Northern Star from behind drooling clouds.
This parting of ours, what number is it? I don't know
the melody of the useless song
in which I get everything
the way I get myself.


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.