Live Freely or Die and the End of the Anchor Chain by Ilmar Laaban
Listen to the fountain of blood speaking in the herb garden, know the worth of stars and nothingness, live freely or die. Remember, the decayed eyes of traitors shall become the flesh of hopeful fish, the howl of ferns and iron— live freely or die.
My Body Is the Dream of My Ancestors and other poems by Hasso Krull
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…
Sterne by Margit Lõhmus
I’d been living a poor, lonely life in Berlin for almost a year. I only hung out with chumps, people who had zero interest in me, who were only interested in themselves, heh, no, they weren’t interested in themselves, either. I’d gotten in the habit of making out everywhere: cafés, the metro, parties, the sidewalk.…
The Night of Souls by Karl Ristikivi
Along with midsummer celebrations, New Year’s Eve has always been one of the toughest. Yet it isn’t just the melancholy of spring turning to summer; it does not gust through open windows. It resides within you even before then, an iron-cold lump in the middle of the room. Its icy breath creeps outward from within.…
The Autumn Ball by Mati Unt
This year, as with every other, there were many signs and predictions that convinced those who were ready for it. The autumn was extraordinarily rich in mushrooms; that many boleti had not been seen for a long time. An over-abundance of apples had grown, too: they dropped to the ground at night, and the canning…
Glass Noodles by Maarja Kangro
She recalled a crappy bang during a lovely Danish residency. It’d been with a tattooed Danish sci-fi writer three years her junior. He’d been high and dry for a year; S., on the other hand, had recently gone through a flurry of bland partners in an attempt to overcome a broken heart. The whole fling…
