Published in 1935 in the poetry collection For the sake of the tree. There are also one recording where Karin Boye reads this poem.
Yes, it hurts when buds burst.
Why else would spring hesitate?
Why should all our hot desire
be bound in the frozen bitterbleak?
The casing was the bud all winter.
What is the new, which tears and bursts?
Yes, it hurts when buds burst,
hurt for what grows
and that which closes.
Yes, it is difficult when drops fall.
Burdened with anxiety they hang heavy,
clinging to the twig, swelling, slipping -
the weight pulls them down, how they cling.
Hard to be uncertain, afraid and divided,
hard to feel the depth pull and cold,
...and still sit there and shiver...
hard to want to stay
and want to fall.
Then, when it's worst and nothing helps,
Breaks like the buds of a jubilant tree.
Then, when no more fear holds,
falls in a glitter of twig drops
forget that they were frightened by the new
forgetting that they were anguished for the journey -
feel for a second their greatest security,
rests in the trust
that creates the world.
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