Ma kõnnin hallil lõpmata teel
kesk nurmi, täis valmivat vilja,
ma kõnnin ja kõnnin otsata teel,
ju lapsena teesid armastas meel -
teed laulavad õhtu hilja.
Need teed, kuis on nad nii kõvad kui keed,
need otsata kutsuvad jooned, -
ma kõnnin ja kõnnin, teed kõvad kui keed,
nii hallid ja tolmused kõik need teed,
need rändaja eluhooned.
Ju lapsena teesid armastas meel,
ju lapsena kuulda tee juttu -
ju lapsena kõndi armastas meel,
oma laulu nii laulda hallil teel,
kui polekski ilmas ruttu.
Tund hiline nüüd, laulab lõpmata -
meel igatseb tolmuta randa,
tund hiline, tee on kõva kui kee,
mind hoiab kui mõrsjaks enesele -
ei siiski saa pärale kanda.
Ma kõnnin hallil lõpmata teel
kesk nurmi, täis valmivat vilja,
ma kõnnin ja kõnnin otsata teel,
kui teede laul, tee helisev meel,
ja kõik on õhtu nii hilja.
Treading on an endless gray road
between the fields full of ripening grain,
treading and treading on an endless road,
early on I was drawn to roads –
roads sing late at night.
How tough these roads, they are as chains,
these endless inviting lines –
treading and treading, these roads tough as chains,
so gray and dusty, all these roads,
a rover’s living quarters.
early on to listen to the roads speaking,
early on my mind was drawn to tread,
to sing my own song on a gray road,
as if there’s no hurry in the world.
The late hour is singing endlessly –
my mind desiring to reach a shore without dust,
the late hour, the road tough as a chain
keeps me as a bride for itself –
but it can’t take me there.
Treading on an endless gray road
between the fields of ripening grain,
treading and treading on an endless road;
the song of roads, the ring of roads
and all is so late at night.
Translated by Airi Looman, edited by Les Wilson
