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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)

MARKKU PAASONEN Markku Paasonen (b. 1967)
is author living in Helsinki. He has published four collections of poems.
A Constantly Turning Baroque
The gift 

The sun has left its sequins on the windowsill and is addressing the plant by names my ears have not heard: Lake-swallowing velvet eel, Glans, Joy-secreting bladder. The flat-leafed fern is flattered, but you can see from its eyes that it does not trust the sun, which caresses all the plants from here to the Pacific. You do not need the sun, I tell the plant; our relationship is so good that you do not even need water. I mix vodka with tomato juice and grasp one of the oval glands that my plant keeps beneath its tongue. I only need to stroke the gland with the tip of my little finger and it gives me a drop, a tear of joy. I mix the drip with my drink and soon seamen are sailing their yawls, sailor boys in their blue and white caps, with cherries stitched to them. They worship the sun on the deck of their sand-yawl and let me lick the cherry. They are still young; they have scales on their fish-eyes. With algae I bind their salty curls, where the sea and the land embrace one another. I scatter flowers around them and oil their periscopes. I do whatever they want. It is a gift that my plant gives me under the sun.


Tiamat

The meeting

Film noir

White

The gift


 
From Voittokulku, 2001 
Translated from the Finnish by Hilde Hawkins