The snow is calling "over there! over here! not here!"
But where the memory has failed
Rhythms from the Nart sagas
Rattle inside of me
The forms we have found are multiplied
Into possible borders and reliefs
Though not through the mountain relief
but into shapes of background or faces
Everything that was or is – is here.
The elder ethnos versifies
The words of ancient saga fall like stones
In winter times simd gathers round
All members young and old
Rivers of time are carrying
Borders of determined space
Centuries arise over here, over there and here
Boldly stepping on shoulders of each other
The dance kindles an alive tower
“Bakuvut” they say and “dælæmæ ærhaut”
they hear as prayer calls to alternation of generations
And feet as if converse moving left and right

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