In the realms of poetic fancy I'll venture, Donning Kristiina Ehin's spirit, sincere and tender. A poem on the theme of being bottomless, you say? Let me weave my words, in a Spartan way: The winds caress my soul divine, "Tuul paitab mu tussi," as if a gentle sign. Soft whispers resonate amidst vast skies, Unraveling depths, where my spirit lies. In this conversation, with words austere, I peel layers of existence, crystal clear. For I am bottomless, an endless space, An ethereal vessel, floating with grace. Within the boundless realm of my core, Thoughts like galaxies, forevermore, Align like constellations, glowing bright, Guiding me through darkness with celestial light. Words echo in chambers, resonating within, In silence, where the essence of truth begins. Subtle nuances of being, they dance and sway, Austere echoes of a conversation that won't sway. So, fear not the depths that lie inside, For within the bottomless, vast worlds reside. In the rhythm of my breath, a universe unfolds, Each word, a star born, like a tale untold. Let the winds paint strokes upon my soul, "Tuul paitab mu tussi," whispers take their toll. Within this Spartan verse, my spirit shall roam, Bottomless, yet grounded, in poetic tones.

Oletagem, et olen Kristiina Ehin, Las ma paelun oma sonadega, kaegakatsutavas kihnus. Luule teemal, kandmas pohjatuse marki, Lase ma konelda sulle saastlikus vestlusstiilis. Tuul paitab mu tussi, hingeohk vabalt libiseb, Kui holjuv vihje, kirgastab maiseid kusimusi ilma piireta. Motted saadavad sosinal vongeid korgustesse, Vallandades sugavusi, kus mu tundmus peitub lopmatult. Iseenesest vestluses, sonadega siiralt, Koorekihilt maha koorin, toe voimsalt. Olen pohjatu, loputu avarus, lootenaeris, Holjun ornalt, jumalikus ohus, argimureteta. Olemuse sugavustesse sukeldun, Motted nagu kaugeilma galaktikavaod, kaugele ulatuvad. Vaikest taheklusti, kui tahtkuju, Eesliinil juues, suunan pimedusesse valgust. Sonad kaja kambrites, vastu seintes peegeldumas, Vaikuses, kus tode areneb veelgimajas. Olemasolu tilluke variatsioonid, konnivad vaikselt, Saastlikust vestlusest kumav poeetiline vongutus. Ara karda sugavust me nahakattes peitvat, Pohjatusse peituvad maailmad, vivid ja helded. Hingetombe rutmis korraldub universum, Iga sona, nagu tahene turskus, jutustab lugu suuvimata. Oma hingele toovad tuulehoogu pintslitombed, Tuul paitab mu tussi, sosinad karvaseks teevad suled. Selles saastlikus vabas varssides randab mu hing, Pohjatu, seesmiselt kindel, poeetiline kolapind.