ESTAD
by Petri Tikka
Neth thinnu tíron ûr toled edin eryd, i eryd en-amrûn
Anann reniannen nedi thelaith chaeryn, annan broniannen
Si nedim meth tíron i galad ias gerin sedhed
Man edain estathar nin? Úmarth, thia nin, ai estathar nin bennat
Dan bedithan ar cuinathan trenared i narn
Padon nan eryd cened ‘elaidh ‘irn ar laiss dhennin
Erion nan ûr ar cenin venn neth gannad
Anglennon sen ar tiria nin tired be raw dhínen
Suilannon sen dan herion linnad be noroth daur ar vrui
E cân ar nôr ribiel o nin, peniad nin eriol
Lastad i dhýlin henion ad i ind sîdh
Thia nin sa i thethyr ar i neryn linnar nan thin hin iavas
I ûr uria born na chin nîn ar oltan na chin
Ter i dhaw thanon ar athradon na ind nîn
Ar ir i aur tôl, im eria ar glinna na Anor
In an early night I see a fire coming from the mountains, the mountains of the
east
Long I strayed in the distant lands, long I endured
Now at the end I see the light where where I can rest
What shall people call me? Ill-fate, it appears to me, if they shall call me
anything
But I will go and I will live to tell the tale
I walk towards the mountains seeing trees and fallen leaves
I climb to the fire and I see a young man playing a harp
I approach him and he looks at me watching like a silent lion
I greet him but suddenly I begin to sing like a large and noisy giant
He cries out and rushing runs from me, seting me alone
Listening to the nigthingales I understand again the meaning of peace
Seems to me the willows and the oaks chant in this evening of autmn
The fire blazes hot in my eyes and I dream in it
Through the night I think and traverse in my mind
And when the morning comes, I rise and glance towards the sun