Jaunā Gaita nr. 167, maijs 1988
EIGHTH ELEGY
Infinite progressions of blue gradually shade into an Estonian childhood, my father's eyes, the fragrant beehive of a paneled veranda where I caught first the form of radiant windows and my language, Finno-Ugric, not Indo-European, a marvel of music and breathtaking brevity. The same vowel harmonies took me later to the labyrinthine lakes of Finland which mirror similar constellations of the soul, where just a transparency separates heaven from earth, salmon leap right through your heart, and you soon know where the world ends and how and why. A piece of ice tells it, so does polished glass, but only alone on a Karelian promontory in an August night can you touch the Great Bear above or below you, learn the last lore of the universe through vour own heartbeat. This is the language of my verse, see on mu luule keel, in which winter is truly winter, spring, summer, fall possess me. I have learned other languages along the way. It is in Estonian I still count my annual rings.
Ivar Ivask. Baltic Elegies, 1987.
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