A long time ago, in a place far away, I met a young lad at a children’s camp- an “Estonian Children’s Camp” called Jõekääru (Camp River Bend). Many years passed by but we wrote letters, we loved language and words. He studied the words and read the books, I studied engineering and philosophy (which equals Architecture) and Toomas Hendrik Ilves became a President.
Yesterday, I flew to Ottawa to have dinner with the ex-President of Estonia. We had much to talk about and laugh about and think about what is happening in our world, especially the small Nordic country called Estonia. Our Parents were Estonians. They, and 60,000 other Estonians escaped the “iron curtain” that fell upon the tiny country (of about one million people) for 5o years.
Growing up in beautiful Canada, removed from an intense history, a lyrical language of poetry and song all my life, I was reintroduced to our culture from a champion of that Nation, now independent and free. It is no wonder that when I transferred my nucs into their new wooden homes I felt I had done this all before.
This poem, versed into music, is always the second last song of the Estonian Song Festival, a festival, which is known throughout the world, as how Estonia declared their freedom from Soviet Occupation.
Here is that song from the Festival (2009) & translated lyrics by: Hilary Bird in Tartu, 2014
They Fly Towards the Beehive
The little bee flies from flower to flower,
her hive getting closer every hour.
thunderclouds over her they threaten and glower,
but home gets closer every hour.
Though thousands fall upon the way,
thousands will survive and stay.
The little bees forget their care and worry,
as towards their hive they hurry.
Soul, oh my soul, when times are bad —
Oh, how you long for your homeland!
Whether at home, or abroad and sad,
how you long for your homeland.
The deadly winds, oh how they buffet and thrash,
and throw deadly missiles across your path.
But the little bee forgets both death and pain,
and hurries to come home again !
Soul, oh my soul, when times are bad —
Oh, how you long for your homeland!
Whether at home, or away and sad,
Oh, how you yearn for your homeland,
Oh, how you yearn for your homeland!
Bees. Humanity. Much to think about.
Toomas – all we can do is sow the seeds, even if it kills us. Love, Rita
The Bee Blog by Rita Komendant 
This is a beautiful translation from a song,wich is ressonating with every Estonian..
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I better credit the Translator: Hilary Bird, Tartu, 2014
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