Eelmise aasta sügisel sai Pirita jõe ääres kirja pandud selline tükk:
This is a story my grandma once told,
I remember it clearly, even though I´m old
A man without purpose, his life was all trite -
He found comfort in gazing at stars in the night
He looked and he thought - why can't I fly?
He dreamed to be carefree bird in the sky
He forgot about family, he had now one quirk
All he could think of - how to make flying work?
One night in the tavern, he sat with his beer
He heard a talk ´bout a conjurer who lives near
The man felt his hairs go up on his back
He heard: conjurer is always dressed in black
The sorcerer´s lifestyle is actually quite odd -
He lives in the forest and never gets old
He visits the village just once in a month
But only when moon is shining very bright.
But no one has seen him - these are just tales,
To keep your small children stay in the bed.
The men were then laughing and chugging on beer,
But man couldn´t forget story, that he was forced to hear.
One night the man casually stared at the stars
But then saw a raven, that flew across bars.
The raven then sat on a rock, to clean his feathers,
Man looked at the wings like they were a treasure
The man asked from raven - how could I fly?
You can jump from a cliff, bird jokingly replied.
The man went then mad - how dare you to laugh?!
And then raised his hand, to smack raven´s behalf.
Bird turned into sorcerer at sting of a light
The conjurer threw at a man his hateful sight.
Indeed, how dare I to make fun of you?
Well, your dream was to fly - then do!
The occultist vigorously clapped his long hands
The man was gone - instead a fly now stands.
And now there it was - a fly in the sky,
Sat in the shitpuddles but gazed at the stars.
Peaks vist eesti keeles ka kirjutama miskit
.