νόστος

Mulle meeldivad rohelised banaanid,

seda olen ma alati teadnud…,

nii on see alati olnud,

aga sinu võrgutuste püüd sellel 

kolmapäeval…,

suigutas mind küll unne,

nagu kitsarinnalisele mehele kohaselt,

vaatan ma sind läbi karmi enese peegelduse,

(mitte näotust tahtejõuetusest)

või oskamatusest midagi ilusat öelda,

olen ilu vist maha matnud

sellesse aegade hämusse,

nüüd siin me oleme…,

ninad nagu seemneteta käbid,

põskedel varjatud vaod,

üksühene meie teadvustus üksteisele

osutatud teenete eest…,

(et oli hea)

…, ja oleme tänulikud.

Diomededae

We are the last…,

everlasting light,

moor far and wide,

greener than war,

two souls collide,

a rapture, a fright…,

yesterday’s morning 

Delight…,

but who would disown?

a wayward Son…,

his coat is black and white,

see the birds…,

they are flying,

the crows, albatrosses, 

seaguls like your fathers nose,

a long and hard goodbye,

a war in your name,

the Mystic fight,

Peace of our time,

rest for a moment,

a moments notice,

white sands 

like papers of Infini,

for honor and all his friends,

the Death of a Merchant,

he is the merchant - death,

like all great kings of old,

and old were his songs,

before the world

and all its suffering,

there is love

and there is kindness,

so sick of its vileness,

its pile…,

a Strohm of turpitude,

we survive,

alas - we thrive,

a noun in the woods

with an axe and a beard,

birds live in it,

create nests,

have babies,

we dont,

so we dont follow,

a stream of patterns,

laughing out loud,

structures of foreign…,

affairs…,

what soil is your father,

ashes of yesterday,

we saw a great white,

peripheral vertigo,

a slow quickness

by his part…,

to undo,

what can’t be 

undone,

so a writing lies

like a visage, 

a pastiche,

on his tomb,

its stone,

a quiet guardian

of teflon night:

“Be vigilant”.

Alanud

Toidu tegemine on räpane kunst,

nagu ka armastus…,

aga sind õgivate pilkude varjus

nad keevad…,

“Õige magus!”

nagu uue elu algus,

puhas, nii puhas

on valgus,

oled Alanud.

Da Soul

Art is a fickle fiend,

she rumbles and tumbles down…,

a whirlwind of forgotten dreams,

a staircase of lost and found,

hmmm, I wonder - me…,

the wanderer (scapegoat),

and some crumbles of foreign…,

just a touch, a small, small,

now it calls as a fish to the land,

mouth open/close…, fiery chasm,

Da Soul,

and a little bit of that sweet,

sweet pain relief…,

down the drain, (water) -

splish-splash,

and a few musky n cute…,

gentlemen, maybe,

and, and, and away we go,

they were angels from there…,

from then,

a sweet, mmm,

so sweet pain relief.