September, 2014
Jospa voisin nukkua
POSTED IN translated Finnish-English September 11, 2014
Jospa voisin nukkuaJospa voisin nukkua
unten unhovyöhön,
hiljallensa hukkua
kuin ilta hukkuu yöhön,
nukkua ja unhottaa
kadota ja kadottaa;
sitten kaiken kaikottua
tunnon tuskan, pellon,
sitten jälleen havahtua
helmaan uuden eloon!Jospa voisi herätä
uuden onnen uskoon,
loimuellen liittyä
kuin päivä aamuruskoon,
elää elo uudelleen
tuikkivine toiveineen;
ja kun sitten, sitten taas
joutuis elon ilta,
onnellisna kadota
kuin päivä tunturilta.L. Onerva
I wish I could deeply sleep
dreaming in oblivion’s land
in dreams’ silence lost to keep
like the evening in night’s hand
oh, to sleep and to forget
lose yourself and lose regret;
when all, everything is gone
pain’s feeling and fear,
then again awake, goes on
a new life, with tears!I wish that I could arouse
trusting happiness,
burning flames to blend, like those
which blend nights and days,
like the life anew, with drops
of its shining, burning hopes;
and again when timeless
life’s twilight is hurrying,
disappear in happiness
like the day from mountains.
translated by Maria Magdalena Biela
The Red Rose
POSTED IN Stories September 2, 2014
The Red RoseOnce upon the time there was a Princess in a far away kingdom…
Her Father, the King, was lonely, because the queen died when the Princess was born, so He had that sweet little girl as his only hope, joy and the reason for living. That is why he gave her whatever she wanted.
The Princess was known for her beauty, for her clothes, for her laughter, and for her wonderful roses.
She had a splendid garden, which she loved very much, and she had in there only roses: yellow, white, violet, even dark roses.
One rose she did not have: a red one!
But the Princess was too young and she did not know what a red rose is!
So, day by day, she grew up in her kingdom and the King was happier than ever. And every morning the Princess went to her garden, chose a rose and put it near heart, and she always chose a colour to fit her dress.
One day a poor gardener, a young boy, came to the palace, searching for work and he was hired as the master gardener of the Princess’ roses.
Every morning the poor boy was watching the Princess walking through the garden, and slowly and secretly, he fell in love with her.
One morning, the Princess came like always, to see her roses and pick up one for her dress. But, by accident, she pricked her fragile little finger into a thorn, and blood came out, on her yellow dress. Then the Princess asked the gardener:
– What is the name of this colour?
– I don’t know, my Princess, maybe “the colour of blood”?
– It is beautiful! Do you have in here a rose of the colour of blood?
– No, my Princess, I do not have any rose like this colour.
– I want one, said the Princess, and left the garden.
Day after day, the Princess came to the garden asking:
– Don’t you have my blood colour rose yet? I told you to find it! I WANT IT!
She became very sad, did not want to eat anymore, not to sleep, not to go out into her garden. All she was thinking about was the blood colour rose.
Doctors came to see the Princess, but sadly, no one could help her sadness, and she was slowly about to die.
The King, in his despair, came before his people and said:
– Who could find a blood colour rose for my daughter, and make her healthy again, I will give him half of my kingdom and my daughter’s hand in marriage!The word of the King spread very fast, and many Knights tried to find the blood colour rose, just to marry the Princess, or to take the kingdom.
Only the poor gardener, sad and lonely , was thinking what to do to save the Princess’ life.
And, he suddenly remembered how the Princess discovered that colour. So, he took a thorn, pricked his finger, took a white rose and shed his blood into the white cup. And the rose became Red.
Then, quickly he went to the court and said:
– I found the blood colour rose for our Princess!
The King took him to his daughter’s bedroom where she was sleeping, pale and beautiful.
When she saw the rose, she became alive again, she put it on her chest, and sang, and laughed the whole day long.
Of course, the King could not give to a poor gardener half of his kingdom, nor the Princess’ hand in marriage, but he promised the gardener lots of money.
The boy wanted nothing but to be the gardener of the Princess’ roses.
By evening, the Red Rose died. The Princess, very angry, went to the gardener and said:
– Why did it die? I want another one tomorrow morning.
And, so it happened, day by day. The poor gardener took every morning a white rose, pricked his finger, shed his own blood into the white cup, made a blood colour rose and gave it to the Princess to see her happy.
Until one last morning, when, with his last drop of blood, he made a last red rose, gave it to the Princess and, turning pale, he fell down at her feet, dead.By Maria Magdalena Biela
