Emaraud

Raudsoonestik hargneb
Ja elulätteks saab.
Raudruun sünnitab küla
Ja kaotab vahemaad.

Poetrepil istub vanataat.
Üks tüdruk mööda tõttab.
Noor ema rinnalapsega
Kusagile ruttab.

Paar poissi asju ajavad
Paljajalu ojavees.
Saeraami õuel mehed
Palgil, suitsud ees.

Mis toimub kaugel ilmaveerel,
Ei huvita üks põrm.
Ei aima veel, et rauda mööda
Hiilimas on surm.

Elu tuiksoon juuniööl
Mürgiastlaks sai.
Ent raud ei olnud määraja,
Kes viidi ja kes jäid.

On kalmul ammu vanataat
Ja üles võetud relsid.
Vaid ojapõhjas endiselt
Veenire tuhmilt helgib.

[motheriron]

The matrix of iron veins branches out,
Becoming a spring of life.
The iron gelding gives birth to a village
And obliterates distances.

On the steps of a shop, an old man sits.
A girl hurries past.
A young mother carrying a babe in arms
Hastens on her way somewhere.

Barefoot in ditchwater,
A couple of boys busy themselves.
In the yard of the sawmill
Men sit on a girder, smoking.

What happens in some far fringe of the world,
No-one cares a dime about.
No-one can foresee
Death creeping on the rails.

On a june night
The life-vein became a poison sting.
Yet it was not for the iron to say
Who was to leave, who could stay.

The old man is long in his grave, now,
And the rails have been removed.
Only a rivulet of water still dully gleams
In the bottom of the ditch.