Oh what a poor soul,
this much-afflicted being,
tinkling his leper’s breath-bell.
How they longed to help him,
offered support like ivy tendrils.
He twisted all the loyal ones into his ropes
and sent them into battles.
Watched with interest
as they fell,
got wounded
for him.
From a distant trench,
the other side of the frontline,
he laughed at the fools.
Before himself—
a mask carved from sorrow.
Translation Notes:
Tone & Diction:
"Leper’s breath-bell" – retains the grotesque, almost medieval imagery of the original ("leeprahinge kelluke").
"Ivy tendrils" (for võsuvääd) – suggests parasitic clinging, more vivid than literal "willow shoots."
"Twisted into ropes" – sharpens the violence of manipulation ("mässis köitesse").
Rhythm & Syntax:
Short, abrupt lines mimic the cold, detached observation of the player.
Enjambment ("fell, / got wounded") creates a staccato effect, like gunfire.
Dashes ("Before himself—") isolate the mask, emphasizing its artifice.
Key Metaphors:
War imagery ("trench," "frontline") universalizes the poem—could be love, politics, or literal war.
"Mask carved from sorrow" – implies performance of grief, not real feeling.
Why This Works in English:
Germanic roots align with Estonian’s directness ("poor soul," "much-afflicted").
"Breath-bell" is unconventional but arresting—a haunted sound.
The last line lands like a verdict, exposing the player’s fraud.
Final Thought:
This translation keeps the chilling clarity of the original. The Player isn’t a villain who gloats—he’s worse: a bored puppeteer, carving masks while others bleed. It’s a poem for the age of grifters and gaslighting.
(Would fit perfectly in a collection with Carol Ann Duffy’s dramatic monologues or Charles Simic’s bleak wit.)
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