Translated by Adam Cullen

 

The woods. It’s very still here today.

No saws rumble today, no harvester whines,

there’s no one here. Not even

trees.

 

Can anyone spot an animal anywhere?

No. No animals tread here.

It’s long since any beasts have prowled this place,

not even werewolves. Only

the forest.

 

In this forest, there’s not even wind.

This forest doesn’t rustle. No twigs snap,

no leaves fall, no splintered trunks squawk,

not a single bird sings anywhere.

This is an Estonian forest.

 

Listen to the sound of silence. Listen in silence.

Listen to the way it softly whines, to the way it whimpers,

to the way it wishes to say something but can’t,

to the way it buzzes like a mosquito.

Listen to the booming of silence. The rustling of silence.

 

It haunts you.

Haunting silence. Haunt, golden beast.