ESTONIAN SONG

When you're sated, weighted down and tired of fate,
you can always turn, turn back again,
to the heart, like yours, that's racked with pain
but where the walls still echo with your name.

When good fortune brightens up your road with light,
and clinging strangers spring up left and right,
someone will be happy but wary of fickle fame,
still hoping that you turn, return again.

But if fate hardens your heart and turns your head
so you cannot feel delight and you forget
what it is to love, someone will mourn your loss,
but can do nothing more. Do not return. You're lost.