Samlade dikter

by Edith Södergran

Edith Södergran (1892-1923) är en portalgestalt i modern svensk poesi och räknas till de mest banbrytande modernisterna även i ett internationellt perspektiv. Hennes trotsiga livskänsla och den lidelsefulla elden i dikterna fortsätter oupphörligt att fängsla nya generationer.

Denna volym innehåller samtliga Södergrans diktsamlingar samt ett nyskrivet förord av författaren Eva Ström.

Genres: Poetry, Classics, Swedish Literature, Finnish Literature, 20th Century, Sweden, Scandinavian Literature

368 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1923

About the author

Edith Irene Södergran was a Swedish-speaking Finnish poet.

Södergran was born in St Petersburg in 1892. In 1907 Edith's father died from tuberculosis, and in the following year Edith was also diagnosed with the disease. She was sent to a sanatorium, but did not feel at ease there. The feelings of captivity caused by the disease and the sanatorium are a recurring theme in her poetry.

In October 1911, Edith and her mother traveled to Arosa in Switzerland where Edith was examined by different doctors. After a few months, she was transferred to the Davos-Dorf sanatorium. In May 1912, her condition had improved enough for her to return home. Eventually, the disease returned and Edith Södergran died in 1923 in her home in Raivola. She was 31 years old.

Reviews

[Steve]

Edith Södergran (1892-1923) was born in St. Petersburg and lived most of her life just over the Russo-Finnish border in the small town of Raivola. Between the ages of 10 and 16 she attended a German boarding school in St. Petersburg, so her earliest poems were written in German. At home the language spoken was Swedish; around her in Raivola Russian and Finnish were spoken. Actually, the Swedish her parents spoke was marginal and archaic, and though Södergran finally chose to write all her poems in Swedish, experts say that even her mature poetry "was sometimes uncertain about word forms, gender, conjugational shifts, etc." At the age of 16 she contracted tuberculosis, probably from her father (whom it quickly killed), and she spent much of her short life in sanatoria. This and some unrequited loves with older authority figures made for a rather unhappy life.

She drowned her sorrows in languages and poetry, learning all the languages I've mentioned so far, but also French, English and Italian. Her primary influences were Goethe, Heine, Whitman (!), Rimbaud, Mayakovsky, Severyanin (completely new to me) and the German expressionists like Mombert and Lasker-Schüler. And she read and read and read Nietzsche's writings. The reception of her very direct, original and modern poetry was predictably cool,(*) but now she is recognized as one of the finest poets in the Swedish language. I've admired her poetry ever since I read Nelly Sachs' translations of them into German.(**)

It is difficult to put a finger on what is characteristic in Södergran's poetry. It is direct and simple, with no linguistic, structural, intellectual or emotional complications. And yet there is a quiet profundity in her best poems. I believe this is due to the distinctly different angle with which she viewed the world. To some readers (and a good number of her contemporaries) Södergran was mentally unbalanced, whereas to others she was a visionary who saw what few can perceive. Each must make up their own mind, though both could be right. Certainly, she had a hard time dealing with people, and the few times she went to Helsinki most of her contacts just shook their heads in dismay at the eccentric behavior of the unpolished young woman.

Sometimes she gave beautiful expression to the disjunction she felt with her surroundings.

I

I am a stranger in this land
that lies deep under the pressing sea,
the sun looks in with curling beams
and the air floats between my hands.
They told me that I was born in captivity -
here is no face that is known to me.
Am I a stone that someone threw to the bottom?
Am I a fruit that was too heavy for its branch?
Here I lurk at the foot of the murmuring tree,
how will I get up the slippery stems?
Up there the tottering treetops meet,
there I will sit and spy out
the smoke from my homeland's chimneys.


To All Four Winds

No bird strays here into my hidden corner,
no black swallow that brings longing,
no white gull that tides a storm...
In the shadows of the rocks my wildness stays awake,
ready to fly at the slightest whisper, at approaching steps...
Soundless and blue is my world, blessed...
I have a door to all four winds.
I have a golden door to the east - for love that never comes,
I have a door for day and another for sadness,
I have a door for death - that one is always open.

Though, of course, not all of her poems speak to the reader with equal force, there are many which are mysteriously meaningful in the way one encounters only in the best poetry.

I saw a tree...

I saw a tree that was greater than all others
and hung full of cones out of reach;
I saw a tall church with open doors
and all who came out were pale and strong
and ready to die;
I saw a woman who smiling and rouged
threw dice for her luck
and saw she had lost.

A circle was drawn around these things
that no one crosses over.

I find her attraction to both Whitman and Nietzsche curious, for Whitman fantasized an unbounded expansion of his self for the purpose of accepting and absorbing all things, whereas Nietzsche's fantasized expansion was for the purpose of obtaining power over all things. These seem to me to be directly contradictory; but, then, aren't we all. Here is one of her Whitmanesque poems.

Vierge Moderne

I am no woman. I am a neuter.
I am a child, a page and a bold resolve,
I am a laughing stripe of a scarlet sun...
I am a net for all greedy fish,
I am a skoal to the glory of all women,
I am a step towards hazard and ruin,
I am a leap into freedom and self,
I am the whisper of blood in the ear of the man,
I am the soul's ague, the longing and refusal of the flesh,
I am an entrance sign to new paradises.
I am a flame, searching and brazen,
I am water, deep but daring up to the knee,
I am fire and water in free and loyal union...

Although she wrote more purely Nietzscheesque poems, this one is unusual for trying a connection between fatigue/fragility and power.

Instinct

My body is a mystery.
So long as this fragile thing lives
you shall feel its might.
I will save the world.
Therefore Eros' blood hurries to my lips,
and Eros' gold into my tired locks.
I need only look,
tired or downcast, the earth is mine.

When I lie wearily on my bed
I know: in this weary hand is the world's destiny.
It is the power that quivers in my shoes,
it is the power that moves in the folds of my garments,
it is the power that stands before you -
there is no abyss for it.

Strange on many levels...

I'll close with what is probably the last poem she wrote; the initial quatrain is engraved on her tombstone:

Arrival in Hades

See, here is eternity's shore,
here the stream murmurs by,
and death plays in the bushes
his same monotonous melody.

Death, why were you silent?
We have come a long way
and are hungry to hear,
we have never had a nurse
who could sing like you.

The garland that never adorned my brow
I lay silently at your feet.
You shall show me a wondrous land
where the palm trees stand tall,
and where between rows of pillars
the waves of longing go.

I hope you were right about that, Edith. In any case, I will be reading your work until he comes to sing to me...

In this edition (1984), David McDuff translates all of her poetry and provides a 50 page essay on her life and work.

(*) In fact, the turmoil of the end of the First World War and the beginning of the Russian Revolution, which set Finland free from the Russian yoke, also had the effect of complementing this lack of resonance, finally reducing Södergran to desperate poverty and accelerating her decline into an early death.

(**) And I think Sachs' translations are better than the English translations I've read. If you read German, they are collected in Volume IV of Sachs' Werke.

Rating

http://leopard.booklikes.com/post/868...

[Ebba · Rating 5 out of 5]

It was like if I suddenly understood poetry a few days ago. It might have something to do with me and my girlfriend reading poetry together and being extremely romantic, I don't know, but something happened. I have enjoyed poetry for awhile but never really like "read" it for fun before if you get where I'm coming from. But then I just suddenly read a bunch when I was sitting outside in the sun and Edith Södergran is my personal favourite poet so far.

With her beautiful languange Södergran creates such relatable poems. It feels like she's speaking to me directly and she just gets me and my feelings. Her poems are about feminism, about sickness, about love, life and religion. They are so different from eachother, yet she has an unique voice throughout all poems. They provoke so much emotion inside of me and I also feel like I get to know her better from reading these poems. I don't even know, poetry is hard to review but I just adore Edith Södergran right now so there it is. I can't wait to dig deeper into poetry, I love it.

[Francisca · Rating 5 out of 5]

Conforme me iba adentrando en este libro más tenía la sensación de que el alma azul claro como el cielo de Edith Södergran es como la de una hermana. No sé cómo explicar con palabras todo lo que me ha transmitido este libro, pero si de algo estoy segura es que volveré a él una y otra vez por su luminosidad, por su belleza, por su sabiduría ancestral que hace que nuestro corazón tiemble. Sin duda, uno de mis nuevos poemarios favoritos.

[Edita · Rating 2 out of 5]

Days and nights I lie thinking
of things that never happened.
My thirsty soul did once drink.
*
Does one carry such a heart in one’s chest in vain?
*
My memories flare up like the fires of warriors retreating
over devastated lands,

[Derian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Encontré a esta poeta finlandesa que escribe en sueco de casualidad, pispeando una antología de poemas sobre árboles que encontré en scribd. Después la busqué en epub y encontré esta compilación de todos sus libros, que son pocos y flacos, pero de una intensidad única. Es re lindo cuando das con un autor así de la nada que no conocías y que resulta genial, no? Me acordaba de Pizarnik mientras la leía, pero de Pizarnik tiene poco y nada, comparten quizá cierta oscuridad, cierta determinación por la palabra y por la vida, un destino trágico. Escribo esto un poco en estado de incertidimbre, todavía con el efecto de algunos versos implacables que te arrastran a un lugar vacío, quieto, profundo, en el que pareciera que pronto algo va a pasar pero no pasa.

[Moa · Rating 5 out of 5]

Underbar sommarläsning

[Thomas Stroemquist · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was my late teens (although I had to get a new copy, since I forgot it out in the rain on more than one occasion). Strange, really, poems wrote by a unwell young woman more around 1920, but there you have it, you don't choose what you love.

[Mohammed Abdikhader Firdhiye · Rating 5 out of 5]

A towering figure in the history of Swedish language poetry, specially in the modernist movement. Her poems has aged like fine wine since the first poetry collection came out in 1916. If she didnt write in a smaller language from the northern parts of Europe, she would have a much bigger reputation like the classic names in English language poetry.

One of the few Swedish writers i have read that actually made the most mundane parts of the Swedish language look very beutiful,poetic.

Södergran could write many different types of poetry, from the early love poems to feministic,symbolism,expressionism heavy and more complex works. A Shame she died at 31 and this is the only complete collection of her but i will re-read her poetry often.

[Louise · Rating 5 out of 5]

fröken edith e en cocky mf

[louise m.]

I am back!!
It's been really hectic lately, with my move from one home to the other and simultaneously studying a horribly theoretic course. Freedom tastes good and the reward for my hard independent work is writing about books! Let's start with Södergran who I read almost two months ago. Prior to that I did know who she was but I had no idea that she was like a myth! Very special in her time apparently, which I'm a bit skeptical about because in her time every woman who could write AS GOOD AS A MAN was considered a rare breed lol. But also she was rumored to have this luminous, out-of-this-earth presence which of course is fascinating to imagine. I figure she would have fit perfectly in our age.

Anywayyyy. About her poems! Because that's what matters! Damnit, I accidentally turned into that worshiper of the author instead of the text itself a little bit and this is not something I stand behind. I believe that one shouldn't rely on the person behind the work to enjoy or interpret it, but let the work speak for itself.
And without caring that much about who Södergran was, I can still say that her poems are spectacular. Fine, some were perhaps not so great but I just brushed past them and went on to the ones that really hit the nerves. And some I haven't had the time to read yet in this collection, but I can safely say that it wouldn't matter so much what these exceptions tell me. I've still got a treasure of poems from this poet that will determine what kind of "review" I want to give. Review is not even the right term her I feel, so I will not give a star rating. With poems, it's usually I like it or I don't - nothing in between. I mean I could get technical, but unlike with novels I don't feel like it. I only feel like quoting some beautiful words:

Nothing


Calm now, my child, there’s nothing there,
and everything is as you see it: the forest, smoke and ever-receding rails.
Somewhere far off in a distant land
there’s a bluer sky and a wall with roses
or a palm and a more temperate wind –
and that is all.
There’s nothing there except the snow on the spruce tree’s branches.
There’s nothing there to kiss with warm lips,
and all lips grow cold with time.
You say though, my child, that your heart is powerful,
and that to live in vain is less than dying.
What did you want of death? Do you feel the repugnance his clothes
spread,
and nothing is more repulsive than to die by one’s own hand.
We ought to love life’s long hours of illness
and oppressive years of longing
just as the brief moments when the desert is in bloom.

(I've stolen this translation from swedish to english off some website and then changed a few words and the format to fit the original a bit better. Unfortunately I'm not clever enough (or goodreads isn't) to know how to present these and following words graphically as they are on the paper.)

Here is another favorite:

By foot I had to cross the solar system


By foot
I had to cross the solar system
before I found the first thread of my red dress.
I sense myself ready.
Somewhere in space hangs my heart,
sparks from it flooding, shaking the air,
into other intemperate hearts.

And another:

Revanche


Skall det icke lyckas mig att störta
tornet uti verklighetens stad,
vill jag sjunga stjärnorna från himlen
såsom ännu ingen gjort.
Jag skall sjunga att min längtan stannar,
hon som ännu aldrig hållit rast,
att hon skjuter lyran bort ifrån sig
som om vore sångens uppgift löst.

This one in swedish, so to maybe get a sense of what kind of sound it's working with. And because it's so special to me in its original *.*

And the last one!

Death of the virgin


The soul of the virgin pure never lost sight,
she knew everything about herself,
she knew even more: of others and of the sea.
Her eyes were blueberries, her lips raspberries, her
hands wax.
She danced for autumn on yellow lawns,
she crouched, and swirling she sank - and was burnt out.
When she was gone no one knew that her corpse still lingered
in the woods...
They searched for her long and well among the terns by the beach,
who sang of little clams in red shells.
They searched for her long and well among the men by the glass,
who battled for shiny knives in the kitchen of the Duke.
They searched for her long and well among the lilies of the valley,
where her shoe had remained since the final night.

(This one I translated myself, I couldn't find one ready to copy. Yes I am pretty pleased with myself thanks for asking.)

This selection as you can see is a grand mix of motives and themes. But more often than not the poems share the same goal: to accomplish the unthinkable, the impossible, something of cosmic proportions.
It's a collection of poems for dreamers and less for doers, if I would boil it down for you. You're welcome.

[Izabelle · Rating 3 out of 5]

Jag ska erkänna att jag lånade den här efter att jag hörde Molly Sandén sjunga Jag e (vierge moderne) på radion när jag var på väg till jobbet. Har inte haft något intresse av henne innan, så yay för att nya tolkningar kan leda oss till originalen!

Jag läser nästan aldrig dikter så jag är inte alls kunnig. Den senaste poesi jag läste var av Pablo Neruda och då blev jag inspirerad av en riktigt bra fanfiction som nämnde hans poesi. Anyway, jag tycker mycket av Ediths poesi är superhäftig. Det är mycket mer sex, erotik och KROPPAR än vad jag någonsin hade kunnat föreställa mig. Det finns också en del som med lätthet går att tolka som rena rama feminismskrik (med en positiv klang på detta ord tack). Men mitt personliga nöje av att läsa har gått väldigt upp och ner. Ibland har jag suttit och typ skrikit inuti mig själv om hur häftigt det är att hon vågade skriva om alla de här sakerna medan mycket av lästiden också varit djupa suckar över att jag inte pallar mer av kristen symbolism och naturskildringar.

Dock så är jag nu sjukt intresserad av att lära mig mer om Södergrans liv. Hoppas på att jag ska hitta en bra biografi att läsa.

[shensis · Rating 5 out of 5]

there’s something about reading poems in your first language that just hits different. it feels like a scolding from your mother. or a hug from your grandmother. something so familiar so poignant and so striking, like yes yes edith i understand i feel it i get it tell me more!!!!!!!!! the poems claw themselves in deeper under your skin farther than any other have before....... linguists pls explain.

(och!) edith förtjänar mer stjärnor än vad jag kan ge henne. hon säger allt jag nånsin velat och kommer att vilja säga.

[Valentina Holm · Rating 5 out of 5]

Edith Södergran var en tumblr girl innan tumblr girls fanns, på det bästa sättet. Inte den toksiska romantiseringen av smärta, men en ärlig berättelse om den, och (det som ofta försvinner över manliga rescencenters huvuden) kvinnor i relationer under patriarkatet, där de ska ge sitt hjärta och sin kropp och överge sina hjärnor. Ingen kan beskriva det så bra som hon.

[Ronja Jalasjoki · Rating 3 out of 5]

Många fina dikter men lite för många om tro till Gud vilket jag är för mycket av en ateist för att bry mig om hehe. Men här kommer min favorit!:

Höstens sista blomma

Jag är höstens sista blomma.
Jag blev vaggad uti sommarens vagga,
jag blev ställd på vakt mot nordens vind,
röda flammor slogo ut
på min vita kind.
Jag är höstens sista blomma.
Jag är den döda vårens yngsta frö,
det är så lätt att som den sista dö;
jag har sett sjön så sagolik och blå,
jag hört den döda sommarens hjärta slå,
min kalk bär intet annat frö än dödens.

Jag är höstens sista blomma.
Jag har sett höstens djupa stjärnevärldar,
jag skådat ljus från fjärran varma härdar,
det är så lätt att följa samma väg,
jag skall stänga dödens portar.
Jag är höstens sista blomma.

[Signe Altersten · Rating 4 out of 5]

Det här är vad Rupi Kaur tror att hon är🤩

Skämt och sido så tycker jag att Södergran är väldigt fascinerande. Det var jätteintressant att följa hennes utveckling i denna samling. Ett måste om man är litteraturintresserad.😗

Vissa var mycket enklare att ”tolka” en andra. Har alltid tyckt att det är svårt att läsa poesi men tur nog kan man ju läsa samma dikt flera gånger och få ut nya meningar varje gång. Kommer definitivt återvända till dikterna och ge dem kärleken de förtjänar. Södergran och hennes karaktär och historia lämnade verkligen intryck på mig!😌

[Annie Sarafian · Rating 4 out of 5]

Språket är livligt, fräckt och bestämt. Det är också vackert och nästintill trollbindande. Edith Södergran är en förebild för sin tid och kvinnoemancipationen - ”Det anstår mig icke att göra mig mindre än jag är”, skrev hon 1917, och det har hon helt rätt i.

Det är en synd att Edith Södergran inte blev mer än 31 år gammal - tänk alla de ord hon hade i sig. Det är fint att dikterna kan få leva kvar och betyda lika mycket nu som då för läsare i alla åldrar.

Dagen svalnar… lV
”Du sökte en blomma
Du fann en frukt.
Du sökte en källa
och fann ett hav
Du sökte en kvinna
och fann en själ -
du är besviken.”

[Martin Hjalmarsson · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dikter (1916)
Jag såg ett träd
En önskan
Höstens bleka sjö
Stjärnorna
Skogssjön
Stjärnenatten
Skogens ljusa dotter
Två vägar
Den väntande själen
Konungens sorg - våren blickade blekblå in genom rutorna

Septemberlyran (1918)
Vanvettets virvel
Skymning
Aftonvandring
Skum
Orfeus

Rosenaltaret och framåt = för snurrigt för mitt svaga sinne

[Miranda · Rating 4 out of 5]

Frälst

[Agnes · Rating 4 out of 5]

Alla tiders gyllenstjärnor på min mörka sammetsdräkt.
Jag är triumfatorn ... i kväll ... jag ryser.
Ödets järnstänger hamra ur mitt bröst.
Virvlar vinden sand från trottoaren?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Finnes för mig död, förintelse - nej.
Döden är i Helsingfors -
han fångar gnistorna på taken.
Jag går över torget med min framtid i mitt bröst.

[Momanda · Rating 5 out of 5]

”Du sökte en kvinna och fann en själ-du är besviken”
Slay

[Ana Luisa · Rating 3 out of 5]

Tú, que jamás has salido de tu jardín,
¿alguna vez te has quedado anhelante ante la verja
mirando cómo por senderos soñadores
la tarde se desteñía azulada?

En esta edición de Nórdica Libros se compilan todos los poemas de una autora muy desconocida - al menos para los hispanohablantes - pero que nos permiten deleitarnos en el proceso de crecimiento de la prosa de la autora y los eventos que la marcan y, por ende, afectan su estilo de expresarse.

La autora, que desde joven padeció de su salud, fallece a los 31 años y esta constante incertidumbre de la hora de su muerte está presente en las diferentes "etapas" de sus poemas, siendo La tierra que no es - últimos poemas una muestra literal de sus últimos momentos.

Hay poemas que, sinceramente, son complicados de entender sin suficiente trasfondo, con influencia de Nietzsche, Goethe y Steiner, y personalmente disfruté los primeros que escribe en 1916, Observaciones diversas de 1919 y Se alzan los planetas de 1920. Hay poemas de amor, que contemplan la naturaleza, que indagan en las emociones más profundas, que cuestionan la violencia y las guerras, y los últimos del compilado que muestran una gradual preparación para la muerte.

No te acerques demasiado a tus sueños:
son humo y pueden desintegrarse -
son peligrosos y pueden quedarse.

Se agradece que incluyeran los poemas en la versión original y el prólogo de Elena Medel que ayuda a poner en contexto toda la vida de la autora y los eventos que la marcan en la adolescencia y juventud.

[Teolinda Stark · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just denna lila (ja, den är faktiskt lila) pocketversion har jag haft i min ägo sedan tonåren. Jag har även en inbunden blå version i engelsk översättning.
Med det vill jag säga att jag är helt betagen av Edith Södergrans sätt att skriva poesi. Ingen annan kan få mig att tappa andan, mina ögon att tåras och mitt hjärta att värmas av samma längtan.
Edith är en bad ass poet som skulle stått sig lika bra idag nästan hundra år efter sin död.
Hennes syn på kvinnan, mannen, livet och döden är en romantisk dröm ena stunden för att vända till rå verklighet i nästa sekund.

Denna samling bär på några av de absolut bästa dikter jag har läst av henne.
För allt i hela världen, missa dem inte!

Betyg: 5 ingångsskyltar till nya paradis av 5

[Saj · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don't think there are many young women in Finland who haven't, at some point, fallen in love with Edith Södergran.

Her poetry has darkness, witty dry humour, beauty and fantasy. A choice to be herself completely and who cares what anybody says? How could we not be inspired and moved?

As she herself says (in my translation): " I must not make myself smaller than I am." (the forward to Septemberlyran, 1918).

[NA · Rating 5 out of 5]

As a teenager who believed in feminism and the equal woman, I sometimes had troubles seeing Södergran for the poet she was, and instead I decided to interpret the poems as reflections of her messy personal life. As a grown-up the texts have matured and I have full respect for the writing she did. Like them or not - these poems are sure to speak to you, out loud. Du sökte en kvinna, men fann en själ.

[Klara Asta Kirk · Rating 5 out of 5]

Edith, mit hjertes dronning! Digtene er ujævne men de bedste har en næsten overjordisk kvalitet over sig, en helt svimlende selvsikkerhed. Mest af alt holder jeg af sagaerne og eventyrene som bor i skriften, solen og månen, frygt og triumf, tiden som forvandlerske, guderne og det altid hellige hjerte.

[Draca · Rating 5 out of 5]

The first collection of poems I owned was Samlade dikter by Edith Södergran. I brought it everywhere, especially to school. It was my solace. It also felt a bit geeky cool.
I always read her poems when I want to feel like a poetic strong woman.

[آية · Rating 3 out of 5]

هُنا لا أقرأ شِعر.. أنا أغرس معها أشجار الموت

[Merkurius · Rating 2 out of 5]

En unpopular opinion kanske men Södergran får mig tyvärr inte på fall. Inte min typ av poesi helt enkelt. Fann typ 3 dikter i diktsamlingen givande.

[Agnes Stenqvist · Rating 4 out of 5]

Älskar främst de tidiga dikterna

[Joan x · Rating 5 out of 5]

"La seguridad que tengo en mí
misma se debe a que he descubierto mis dimensiones. No me conviene
hacerme menos de lo que soy". 💙