Poets

Across the empty page moves a human hand, skin, flesh, fingernails and bones. But held by three fingers, slanted toward the good and evil of the world, is the pencil, firm and true.

A northern country´s clearing an endless promise nil and nothing sky from head to toe

Ela või ära ela, mis tähtsust sel on, kui puud on läinud lehte ja maa pääl on taeva varje.