I hear the evening cornbird calling,
moonlight floods the fields of tasseled grain;
wood smoke, drifting veils the distant valleys,
summer evening’s joy is here for me.
I’m not happy yet no sorrow shakes me;
but the dark wood’s stillness I would welcome,
rosy clouds through which the day is falling,
sleepy breezes from the blue-gray mountains,
shadows on the water, meadow flowers;
out of these my heart’s own song I’ll make.
I will sing it, summer hay-sweet maiden,
sing to you my deep serenity,
my own faith that sounds a swelling music,
oak-leaf garland ever fresh and green.
I’ll no longer chase the will-o-wisp,
happiness is here in my own keeping;
day by day, life’s circle narrows, closes;
time stands still now, the weather cocks all sleeping;
here before me lies a shadowy way,
leading to a strange, an unknown place.
Eino Leino, 1903 (translation by Aina Swan Cutler)