*tuule makett - Infopoint Estonian Culture

8 9 / Uku Masing
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At night You grow into a lake. From its bed
all who were petrified in the limestone suddenly rise
as if Your hands in Your lap had uttered spells
or the solitude around us had brightened into dawn.
Do You know or only feel that You are greater now
than time? All of a sudden you reached infinity,
the tree leaves softened so that root is more root
and what was just an islet grew into an island ...
And when You peep at the tingling spirit in the summer,
can You see that two people have come?
One pulsates so joyfully that he has no peer,
the other, a dead one only one span in height.
You are the silk of their flowing robes,
for them the forest of Your eyes is full of ancient flowers,
in Your laughter are songs that once hardened into jade
and the vase of Your blood cradles sea anemones.
Do You feel it? Don’t answer! Being alive like this
is painful for a while, at the same time it’s just like
dreaming,
because clubmoss twines all about my temple veins,
so lush that it settles like a forest round my head,
which has long served only to beat against iron walls
and never once to sense where heaven begins.
But now a flickering ray of sun combs down
the bent-grass sprouting from the grey moss of my hair.