Tuesday, December 13, 2011


Nägin unes Juhan Liivi. Ta elas ürgvanas vaiadele ehitatud hurtsikus. Õigemini oli seal mitu hurtsikut, justkui kaks kõrvuti seisvat torni. Ja nad olid soojustatud sambla, mulla ja saviga. Ühes hurtsikus elas tema, teises tema vend. Mäletan, kuidas Liiv oma hurtsikust välja tuli - kõigepealt hurtsik rappus ja tolmas, siis avanes mingi luugike. Ta tuli justkui maa alt välja. Ta välimus oli ajalooline - täpselt selline nagu me kujutame ette 19 sajandit ja 20 sajandi algust. Ma peaaegu tundsin, kuidas see aeg lõhnas - seda lõhna tunneb ka siis, kui lammutada maha mõni väga vana hoone. Sealsamas, hurtsikute kõrval rohelisel kevadisel murul oli mingi sündmus, mingi pikk laud, mille taha Liiv istus. Ta nägi väga tavaline välja. Ta oli tavaline vuntsidega vanem mees, natuke priskem kui piltidel, ja kiilakas. Tal oli tume ja tolmune mantel seljas, ja tema näos, olekus ja üldises väljanägemises oli midagi loomuomaselt väärikat.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Wanderer

I came from town. Snow is falling.
Didn`t find a job.
Snow is falling. Legs are tired.
Hungry, hungry, worn off.

No path ahead, no beams of light
The time is late, but look! -
A little spot of light not far
is flickering at last.

Knock-knock-knock and step inside -
door is kindly opened.
A girl is taking bread from oven,
warm bread - just think of it!

Warm room and smell so sweet.
Hungry... "Would you like some bread,
stranger?" Tore a piece for me.

A hearty piece of warm bread,
nothing tastes as sweet.
Warm bread and warm heart,
someone so still and kind.

"Stranger, where you from and where
you go? You have a wife?"
"I came from there, im going there -
wander all my life."

"Have you brothers, have you sisters,
are your parents still alive?"
"Im alone, the truth is bitter -
all of them have died..."

"Tibi-tibi, tibi-tibi...
the biggest one is rooster!
I have four little chicken,
chatting made them waken..."

Juhan Liiv 1905

(translated to English by c:)



Sparrow
Down to the stone fence, amidst nettles and rubbish of woodstack, there goes a sparrow. Deeper, deeper, away from sunshine, away from cat.
The sparrow`s wing is broken, she cannot fly.
Tweet, tweet – the skylarks fly high in the air. The swallows chirp and fly like arrows, white-throated and glossy black as they are, up and down, back and forth, they disappear to the sky and then come out again. The sun pours out its heavenly light and the evening`s glow:
Tweet, tweet!
Tweet, skylarks, swallows, sun, sky and air:
Tweet, tweet!
Does your heart also long for freedom, you outcasted sparrow with a broken wing, down, under the stone fence?
Tweet!

Does that little heart inside your grey coat know what desire is?

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Tuesday, December 8, 2009