Creative bug

Loomepisik
Üks loomepisik unest virgununa
käib segaseina ringi veel

Mu sõbra rahulolus midagi on mäda
-ei pisik teda nakatanud pole veel.
Kas arvama ma peaksin:
"Küll on hea, et haigust seda ta ei põe."

Kus võtab selle sära-jõu
geeniusmees, kes muusalt tiivad saanud
ja lendab taevavõlvil pilvedest ta kõrgem.
Näe istub ühes ingliga.

Sõber sipelgana omi käike teeb
ja kõhib puhtaks kurgu viirusest.
"Ma täna olen terve mees"
"Kas nakatama peaksime me teda
haigusesse hullusse?"

Kuid väike pisik- viirus selline,
see ihub ligi.
Ta hindab sõbra terast silmavaadet.
Läeb trell ja pahtel nurka
ja loomepalvemaja poole surkab,

Creative bug

One creative bug,once woken up,
will still in circles go.

With my friends complacence there is something wrong,
- that the bug has not affected him - not yet,
Should I think:
"how good it is,he does not suffer from this disease"

Where does he take this shining strength
Genius man, wings gotten from a muse.
And he flies through the heavens
above the clouds,and lo,
there he sits with one of the angels.

Friend, like an ant,circles around,
and coughs throat clean of the virus,
"Today I am a healthy man"
"Should we really infect him with,this
disease so mad?"

But the little bug - a virus like,
It grinds closer.
He appreciates Friend's eye view
Throws the drill and plaster to the corner
and runs amuck to the creative house of prayers.

A morning poem

Morning poems!

A little small bugs

Stumbling on my bread.

Too small, too little.

Not feeling loved.

The name could be Fondness.

But this you cannot feel.

And hold in your arms.

If love is such a thing,

That cannot be touched,

That you can only feel.

A little small bugs,

Are we then?

We wish to be, every one of us,

Want to be at least a General.

In reality we are just small and general.

But still we are so special,

Every one of us.

Should it be understood, this way,

the God?

Horseman and sitar player

 Ratsanik ja sitara mängija

Andestus võiks olla tuulesosin,
kui andestan, et Sa mind ei kosind.
Andestus võiks olla pilli helin,
kui andestad, et pole sinu muusa.
Tuul kannab väljadele tolmu välja.
Ses kuldses pilves kapjadest
on Sinu andestus,
Vihm paitab pilli sametisi keeli,
et sõnum Sinuni vaid jõuaks
mu arm -
vaid palun mõista;
ei saanud teisiti, ei võinud.
Sa valjad lubad valla
ja hobu üksi kappab teel


Horseman and sitar player

Can forgiveness be a whisper of the wind,
if I forgave, that You did not, stay with me.
Can forgiveness be the sound of string?
If You forgive me,that I am not your muse.
The wind carries sand dust out to fields.
In that golden pillow from hooves,
there is Your Forgiveness.
The Rain strokes the soft sitara strings
I hope the Message gets to You,
My Love  -
please understand;
I could not otherwise,
I couldn't.
You let Your bridle loose
and the horse,galloping on a lonely way.

brother's picture from a long time ago

Old artwork from a really long time ago.

Hüljes

Hülge elu



On elu nagu oleks viimsed hingetõmbed
- seepärast meenutan:
kui jahimees on nurka surund hülge,
ta silme eest siis jookseb elu film.
Ja meenub päiksepaiste, vesi vahune,
ja rohukõrred kleepund paadi külge.
Päike tüünelt mere taha kaob
ja värve üle terve ilma laotab.
Vesi loksumas on aerulöögist.
Jah ma olin õnnelik!





 Seals' life

When life is like a breath at last
- and I remember in my memories:
As hunter cornered seal,
the seal thinks his life around at last:
And to mind come sunshine, water foamy,
and grass reed sticks to boat sides.
Sun style lost into the sea
and spreads colors over world.
Water sloping from an oar stroke.
 I was happy!

Soviet snowflakes

Lumeräitsud nõuka ajast

Lumi sädelev ja puhas helgib jõuluvana krael.
Tihedate täppidena valkjalt kumab
 Moskvast toodud lapsepõlve lelul.
Keegi ei mäleta ei teagi teda
"-see ju näärivana -tsurka
.kae,mis vanal pööningul."
Ühes lasteleludega üle eland sula
-pika vabariigi aja-elab sinugi.
Aegu häid ja halbu
sõltub sinu meelest,
ikka vihkamist ja haigust sünnitatud keelest,
Aga vana jõulu-näärivana ühtemoodi lapsi ootab.
Vatist kuue puhtaks harjab.
Habemes ja muhedaina igakeelseid-igat värvi
suuruses ja arus lapsi ootab.
Lapsed talveaja salme loevad, jätnud kaminale kinda
ja nad kindlasti ei kiru valitsust ja ilma.

Modern Soviet snowflakes

Snow so glimmering and so pure
glazed upon  Santa's coat.
Thickly speckled glistening an the collar
on childhood's play toy from Moscow
No-one knows or remembers him,
with Slavic-pattern felted shoes,
that's old Santa- tsurka
See what old guy's attics holds;
With children's toys he`s survived the thawing - 
the long republic time,
and you as well it will endure
Times both good and bad
depend on the mind,
Always hatred and diseases stern from language.
Old Santa-Frosty will wait for the children 
either way.
Bearded and so mellow. Multi-color,multi-language
children waiting for.
 Gloves left at fireplace, so Children read the winter-verses,
and they do not mess with government and climate.