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from the October 2015 issue

Evening Fare

Õhtuoode

This is a smart time, I think as I sit and eat a sandwich in the kitchen.
Tomorrow is sorted, the hayracks ready, the tools even stowed in the shed,
your magnificent culinary creation needs one more hour,
(no, bread and ham won’t ruin my appetite, I don’t want to pig myself later).
Actually, I could even go for a swim, do a length of the lake,
come back tuckered and hungry, hang the towel out to dry,
but that wouldn’t be fair on you. What’s that you’ve got there,
I ask, as I absently chop carrots and fingers, an eye on the yard,
ah, turnips, a figure on the road, a dog bark next door, pork fatback baking.
Evening fare is a bite to eat, as well as a moment between day and night.
Turnips and time, pork and posterity, man and his life on the road between day and night. 

© Kaur Riismaa. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2015 by Miriam McIlfratrick. All rights reserved.

Õhtuoode

See on kaval aeg, mõtlen köögis istudes ja võileiba süües.
Homne on otsustatud, rõugud veetud, isegi tööriistad on kuuris,
sinu imeliste kokanduslike saavutusteni jääb veel tund,
(ei, ma ei riku oma isu, ainult vorstileib, et pärast ei õgiks ogaraks).
Ja tegelikult võib veel ujumagi minna, ujuda üle järve,
tulla rammestunult ja näljasena tagasi, panna käteräti kuivama,
aga see poleks vist sinu suhtes aus. Mis need sul seal ongi,
küsin hajameelselt porgandeid ja näppe hakkides, pilk õues,
ahjaa, kaalikad, keegi maanteel, naabri koer haugub, ja hää pekiga siga ahjus.
Õhtuoode on korraga vähekne toitu, ning ka hetk päeva ja õhtu vahel.
Kaalikad ja aeg, siga ja igavik, inimene ja ta elu maanteel päeva ja õhtu vahel.

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