Paroles et traduction Metsatöll - Mullast

Mullast

Ära,
Oota valmivat vilja,
Koreda peoga ahmad.
Jära,
Oma karedat leiba
Mullaste kätega kahmad.
Tea,
Vilja vitsutud sarjus
Tera, mis tõusnud su kalmust.
Pea,
Hiiehaabade varjus
Saab maamuld sinugi silmast.
Su sünnimuld sinuks saab sügise surmas,
Kevade kütise künd.
Su sünnimuld sinuks saab sügise surmas,
Alede aimata and.
Kuula,
Aima allika taidu,
Väsinud silmaga mõõdad.
Rüüpa,
Oma jääkirmes taigu
Mõranend huultega haarad.
Vaata,
Saab kevade külmas
Sinuks see sinetav sire.
Oota,
Viib pärnade punas
Vihm viimase vanadusvine.
Su sünnimuld sinuks saab sügise surmas,
Kevade kütise künd.
Su sünnimuld sinuks saab sügise surmas,
Alede aimata and.
Su sünnimuld sinuks saab sügise surmas,
Kevade kütise künd.
Su sünnimuld sinuks saab sügise surmas,
Alede aimata and.

Dust

Wait,
Wait for the ripened grain,
A hearty meal to feast upon.
Grind,
Your coarse bread
With earthy hands you knead.
Know,
The grain that's whipped in the sheaf
The blade that rose from your grave.
Go,
In the shadow of sacred oaks
The soil will gather in your eyes.
Your native soil will become you in autumn's demise,
Spring's sower's fertile ground.
Your native soil will become you in autumn's demise,
The age-old gift of feasts.
Listen,
Detect the source of the spring,
You measure with weary eyes.
Drink,
Your icy drink in the grove
You grasp with cracked lips.
See,
Spring's cold will come
You will be that budding lilac.
Wait,
The lindens' red will carry
The rain, the last vintage of old age.
Your native soil will become you in autumn's demise,
Spring's sower's fertile ground.
Your native soil will become you in autumn's demise,
The age-old gift of feasts.
Your native soil will become you in autumn's demise,
Spring's sower's fertile ground.
Your native soil will become you in autumn's demise,
The age-old gift of feasts.