RISTIKIVI, Karl

No, We Shall Never Return to This Shore

No, we shall never return to this shore.

The child who built a pier of colored stones

and caught small fish with bare hands

has long since died, long ago and little by little.

And this beach that was once young,

is now old and gray, even the stones are dead.


Nostalgia of home – nostalgia of distance

Nostalgia of home — nostalgia of distance,

the tree grows in two branches,

seeker of shadow — seeker of wind

at the border of forest and sea.

Fear of birth — fear of death,

the thread of life tied at both ends.