Author: Kirsi Kunnas

Travelling light

30 September 2005 | Fiction, poetry

Where roads reach through nights
into a fresh infant nightfall
with forest growing rooted to roots and stars,
and darkness canters along
on her black mare,
      canters along at a silent pace,
she combs her hair
on the starry comb
and then slips into eyes to sleep.

But here nights are nights
of rooms, mere darkness:
light a light, it’s no night,
put out the light, it’s night,
that’s all,
and not here alone but everywhere
that rooms are ranged in rows
in piles.
Houses sleep, breathe earth’s vastness
so that each of you, alone,
but neighbouring together,
will fill with stars.

From Vaeltanut (‘Travelled’), 1956 More…

What the snail thought

30 September 2005 | Fiction, Prose

Poems from Tapahtui Tiitiäisen maassa
(‘It happened in Tumpkin land’, WSOY, 2004)
Illustrations by Christel Rönns


Eli merenpohjassa Meritähti
tuhat tonnia vettä yllä.
      - Minä jaksan kyllä,
      sanoi Meritähti.
      - On terävät sakarat,
      ja litteät pakarat
ja paineenkestävät kakarat!


More Tumpkin tales

Issue 2/1992 | Archives online, Children's books, Fiction, poetry

Poems from Tiitiäisen pippurimylly (‘The Tumpkin’s pepper mill’, Otava, 1991). Kirsi Kunnas’s classic children’s books, Tiitiäisen satupuu (‘The Tumpkin’s story tree’) and Tiitiäisen tarinoita (‘The Tumpkin’s tales’), appeared in 1956 and 1957

Mr Saxophone and Miss Clarinet

Mr Saxophone
	went moony 
	beginning to fret
about Miss Clarinet: 
	Moan moan moan 
	darling little crow!
	I love you so!
moaned Mr Saxophone.
Miss Clarinet 
was very upset:
	I won't be owned!
	And I'm no little crow! 
	I sob like a dove,
	and even about love
	I sing alone!

	Oh moan moan moan 
groaned Mr Saxophone.



Issue 2/1979 | Archives online, Children's books, Fiction, poetry

Kirsi Kunnas

Kirsi Kunnas. Photo: Jyrki Luukkonen

Poems from Tiitiäisen satupuu (‘The Tittytumpkin’s fairy tree’, 1956)

The old water rat

There’s a shiver of a reed,
a rustle in the grass,
a slop-slopping through the mud:
Who’s that puffing past?

Who’s that peeping there?

A whiskery head
and a muddy tread.
It’s Old Mattie
Water Rattie.

Squeezing water from his eyes,
trickling from his sneezing nose,
freezing and sneezing.
Then: Oh dear Misery!
A-snee, a-snee, a-snizzery! More…