A promise taken from someone with shoddy reception at five AM -
every signal, every sound is a sign;
every word is a footprint.

Forgotten by morning -
we have, that is.
Not the stars.

In dreams sometimes, I envision
how many footprints have been left
on your doorstep, how many thoughts
have been left in your subconscious,
how many people your
monolingual, monochrome consciousness
can tell apart.

By morning, forgotten.
But the stars do not forget:
Everything that has been,
has been.

Translated from Estonian by Adam Cullen