Eeva Kilpi, “My Nettles”

Nettles

Ei mutta nokkoseni ovat jääneet kokonaan kehumatta.
Nokkonenhan se on kesän viimeinen, sitkein
ja runsain kukkija.
Kauniit, rehevät röyhyt taivuttavat sen
aistikkaalle kaarelle
ja se nojaa kivijalkaa vasten
kuin lepuuttaen raskasta, koristeiden painamaa päätään
tai kuin iso koira olisi laskenut siihen leukansa,
karvaisena, pörröisenä, paijattavan näköisenä.

Entäpä kärsämöt, keltano,
syyskuinen mansikankukka?

Runot, jättäkää minut rauhaan, minä rukoilen.

No, but my nettles have been left entirely unpraised.
The nettle, in fact, is summer’s last, its hardiest
and most abundant flower.
Lush, pretty panicles bend it
in an elegant arch,
and it reclines against a plinth,
as if resting its heavy, ornament-laden head,
or like a big dog that has laid its chin down,
hirsute, shaggy, and looking petted.

What about yarrows, hawkweeds,
September strawberry blooms?

Leave me in peace, poems. I am praying.

— Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976)

Translated by Living in FIN. Photo courtesy of demuths.co.uk

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