Eeva Park

الأستونية

Jayde Will

الانجليزية

formica rufa

Sipelgas,
kelle kurnasin välja kasemahlapurgist
ei surnud
ega surnud,
kuigi tapsin teda juba viiendat korda,
vajutasin parema käe pöidla ja nimetissõrme vahel
puruks,
uputasin kraanivette,
vajutasin lusikaga,
aga ta ronis välja valamust,
tumepruun ja tundlad sirgu,
liikus kuuel jalal kiirelt
ikka selles ühes suunas
vilksatas mõte,
et annaks armu,
viskaks ta õue,
laseks elada,
kui tunneksin ta kõnnaku ära kõikide
teiste sipelgate hulgast,
oleksin sipelgate Jumal.
Aga ei tunne ju.

© Eeva Park
الإنتاج المسموع: Eesti Kirjanduse Teabekeskus [Estonian Literature Centre]

Formica rufa

The ant,
which I drained out of a birch juice jar
didn’t die
nor was it dead,
though I killed it already for the fifth time,
I pressed him to bits between the thumb and forefinger
of my right hand,
drowned him with tap water
pressed him with a spoon,
but he climbed out of the sink,
dark brown and straight antennas
moving quickly on six legs
still in that one direction
a quick thought,
to grant him amnesty
I could toss him in the yard,
let him live,
if I could recognize his gait out of all
the other ants
I could be god of the ants
But I don’t.

Translated by Jayde Will