*tuule makett - Infopoint Estonian Culture

2 5 3 / Triin Soomets
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Come to my grave,
at the edge of the abyss.
Too near the edge: I will slide down.
Come to my grave by the flowing water,
bind my tainted body with its own slime.
It doesn’t matter: I am awake.
Take your hand from between my legs, it doesn’t belong to me:
my hands are on my breast.
Turn your thoughts away from me,
otherwise I will wake up again
and we will find each other
in whatever century, in whatever suburb.
Make short work of it,
then, full of hope, we can travel through centuries,
without fear of encountering a judging glance except in a
mirror.