My damaged heart belongs to North,
Where birds sing special songs,
Where frozen winds are kissing Njord,
And clouds are playing gongs.
Existing in the wilderness,
As our fathers did,
I’m fighting roughly, nevertheless
I am a Northern kid.
I sit, and still before grey skies,
I sing a special song.
I’m waiting for the cold sunrise
In place, where I belong.
Tallinn, 27.09.2019