*tuule makett - Infopoint Estonian Culture

6 9 / Artur Alliksaar
■ Turning Point
Your cry was like a chord plucked from a harp and flung into
the night.
Every soul that it struck was startled and shaken.
The sea ceased its roar and raised a listening head.
Fishermen’s nets fell from their hands.
Pearl divers perished dripping in pearls.
The shore gaped in anguish.
Bugs burrowed beneath the bark of trees.
A wan waxen tremor crossed the face of the moon.
Children stopped playing and huddled in fear.
Lovers entwined leapt apart and took flight.
A leopard dropped a fresh-slain gazelle, though he had
starved for a week.
From parched yellow deserts rose savage shadows that
swal lowed up the oases.
The lash-marked bodies of slave women tossed and turned
on beds of reeds.
From mighty mountain ravines rained volleys of rock.
Storms gathered in the sky.
That night saw the sinking of many ships.
That night the shrines of many loves were smashed.
That night many hearts found themselves homeless.
That night was filled with a shriek that sprang from
your memory-defying voice.
You alone heard nothing, so soundly were you rocking
in the cradle of your midnight mind.
The faint glimmer of a waning smile spread over the
merciless beauty of your face,
betraying the kindling agony of many suppressed lusts.
You alone of all this knew nothing.