a mute song, of searching: happy mother’s sunday, mothers

a song about muteness. one of those songs. they say it has been voted among the best latvian songs ever (well, up to 2009, at least, and i am sure nothing has changed since). here it goes. the translation is a little awkward, and the rhyme is lost mostly. sorry for that.

The sky above me stretches mutely,
and mute is maple blossom now
Why is it so that I have nothing.
why is it loss that I must have?

Why should I go and seek somewhere
a voice which rests beneath the dust?
See, winds are lost among the fir-trees
and violin cries like a dog.

Go and burn!
Burn up on that quest to find your voice,
when you seek a voice that is your own,
A voice unique, a voice to be your choice.

The branches mutely stretch above me
but maybe they can whistle songs?
And I so mute and I so silent,
But maybe I could be a sea?

And what if all is live and budding,
and choirs rest beneath that dust?
and what if soul sings in those fir-trees,
and dog cries softly his own fate?

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