My Body Is the Dream of My Ancestors
My body is the dream of
my ancestors. Bone and skin, hair
and fat: they saw it long ago,
but so little time
has passed that no one believes
it. My ass isn’t bulbous and springy
just because: someone sat upon it for
thousands of years, then lent me
the cheeks – don’t just wear
them down; when you sit, then sit
with pleasure. Sit with a purpose.
And so now, I do. But my thoughts
won’t stay still. I fidget. I stand
up, go to the window, out
the door, hurry to the shore, and there
you walk – gorgeous Europa, the old
pagan’s lover; but say, why do you
hold that bloody knife.
Translated by Adam Cullen
There Are Holes In The Road
There are holes in the road. There are holes in the earth.
Stepping forward I notice: there are holes in my boots.
Where there are holes, my socks show through,
I can see them, I know this because there are holes in my skull.
When rain falls into water, there are holes in the water.
As the droplets fall, I hear them because there are holes in my ears:
I stand and breathe because there are holes in my nose,
I move forward and think. Yes, there are holes in my thoughts.
There are holes in my words. Lao-zi thought
everything necessary came from emptiness—but tell me, friend,
what use would emptiness be if it wasn’t made of
holes beside holes? Large holes. Small holes.
Holes exist. Birth and death are holes.
There are black holes in the universe—maybe there are exits
to another place made of holes.
Exits are holes. The mouth, the heart, the intestines are holes.
Translated by Brandon Lussier
All People Are Pregnant
All people are pregnant, said Diotima,
their bodies are pregnant, their souls are pregnant,
oh how they want to be born with all their might.
Life is childbirth. Birth is beautiful.
So Diotima said to Socrates. Socrates said
the same thing at Agathon’s party, and it was heard
by young Aristodemus, and he passed it on
to Apollodorus, who told his own friends.
Little Plato was playing with beetles in the garden.
Where did all these beetles come from, he wondered,
did they emerge suddenly from an immense, flawless beetle
in the sky? That we are unable to see?
At night, his mommy carried him inside and put him to sleep.
At Agathon’s place a party of pederasts began,
and because no one could stand to drink any more they began to argue:
let us talk of love. Let us talk of beauty.
Translated by Brandon Lussier
The Woods
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.
Translated by Adam Cullen
The Sun and Moon Wished to Marry
the sun and moon wished to marry
in the evening the sun combed her golden locks
on the seaside
and cast them into the waves as a bridge
soon the moon appeared as joyful as a wasp
underground there lived an old crone
who loved the moon
one evening she stole a sword and cut a fissure into the body of the earth
by the light of the moon she climbed out and said
you are to become my husband
no said the sun the moon must live in the sky
he is my companion and walks on the water
they fought and pulled at the moon till it tore
the old crone struck with her sword
and seized the moon’s heart for herself
thus the sun got a husband without a heart
he is pale grows and wanes again
until he vanishes into his nest
underground however there is light galore even at night
the moon’s heart glows and shows travelers their way
but the sword that sank to the seabed
pulses beneath the seaweed and seashells
it yearns to have the moon’s heart back
Translated by Adam Cullen
Alice Went to Wonderland
Alice went to Wonderland
she grew up
but loathed playing cards
she found the Queen of Hearts to be particularly vile
Alice always removed it from every deck she came across
and stuck it into the freezer
the queens froze turned waxen blue
one day Alice smoked a pipe
it was a little Indian pipe made of
light sandalwood
she refilled the pipe lit it eight times
then Alice felt hot she opened up
the freezer to grab ice cream
a tall pale-faced woman entered the room
her lips were frosted colorless snow on her eyelids
the woman smiled her teeth glittering and translucent
like a row of ice cubes
you were expecting me she said
and reached out a hand
in her palm a tiny blue heart
you may have this now
it is the soul of a great seashell
you found on the beach as a child
you needn’t fear the sea’s roar any longer
Translated by Adam Cullen
Come Back
come back, music
come back, the same music
come back, all as it once was
the music won’t come back
the same music won’t come back
all won’t come back as it once was
come back, Baltic pine
come back, same Baltic pine
come back, Baltic pine forests as they once were
the Baltic pine won’t come back
the same Baltic pine won’t come back
the Baltic pine forests won’t come back as they once were
come back, yearning
come back, the same yearning
come back, kingdom of yearning as it once was
yearning won’t come back
the same yearning won’t come back
the kingdom of yearning won’t come back as it once was
come back, shadow
come back, same shadow
come back, gossamer shadow dance as it once was
the shadow will come back
the same shadow will come back
the gossamer shadow dance will come back as it once was
Translated by Adam Cullen
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hasso Krull (b. 1964) is a leading Estonian poet, thinker, and translator whose work bridges mythology, philosophy, and contemporary poetry. A key intellectual voice since the 1990s, he has introduced Estonian readers to thinkers like Derrida and Foucault, co-founded the online poetry journal Ninniku, and translated authors from Georges Bataille to Pentti Saarikoski. His epic Meeter ja Demeeter (Metre and Demeter, 2004) won the Baltic Assembly Prize, and he received the Estonian Cultural Endowment’s poetry award in 2022 for Ava (Opening). In 2024, Krull defended his doctoral thesis Cosmic Trickster in Estonian Mythology. His new collection Hämaruse meelespea (A Twilight Reminder) is forthcoming in autumn 2025.
The poems are taken from three collections by the author: Four Times Four (Neli korda neli, 2009), including the poem There Are Holes in the Road and All People Are Pregnant; Europe (Euroopa, 2018), featuring My Body Is the Dream of My Ancestors and The Woods; and Opening (Ava, 2021), which includes The Sun and Moon Wished to Marry, Alice Went to Wonderland, and Come Back.
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