Lennart Meri's "Hõbevalge" and "Hõbevalgem" have now been combined into a single volume in Estonian. When you agreed to take on this work, did you have any hesitation, given that it's a highly significant work in Estonian literature and essay writing, and surely not the easiest task for a translator?

I wouldn't say the hesitation was small at first — it was quite big. But as quickly as I was stunned to be offered the project, I also felt certain that I simply couldn't not do it. I had to.

Maybe the hesitation was mostly because I knew how important the work is, both in Estonian literature and the broader cultural landscape. It wasn't just about publishing it in English – it had to be published with dignity and care.

Thanks to meetings with [Lennart Meri's son] Mart Meri and others involved in the project, I felt confident that this was a genuine, serious effort to bring the book to a global audience, not just publish a small print run in Estonia and let it collect dust on a shelf. It helped that the publisher, Hurst in the UK, is highly respected and regarded.

So, I became sure that it would turn out right if I took the translation on myself. I just knew I had to. It also gave me confidence that the translation would be the best it could be.

What was the most difficult part of translating this book? Was it Lennart Meri's long, complex and layered sentences?

Absolutely. With every work you translate, you slowly start to embody the author.

I had to get to know Lennart internally, even though he's no longer with us. But while reading and translating, you start to feel very intimately connected to the person behind the words.

As that relationship deepened, the work started to flow more easily, just like with any book. But I think the hardest part was the research.

Luckily, I translated this in today's world, not 10 or 20 years ago when the internet wasn't so powerful. It's a double-edged sword, but there's a huge amount of referenced material — some of it easier to find, like original texts translated from French, German into English. I could track those down and cite them. But others were practically impossible to find — like texts that were translated from Arabic into French, then into Estonian or Russian, or from Karelian folk songs translated into Estonian. If they were translated at all. Some were left in their original form to sound mystical, as Lennart himself put it.

In order to make them comprehensible in English, I sometimes had to use Estonian as a bridge language and do my best to render it into English.

That brings us to the matter of vocabulary. The book includes Old Norse terms with no direct Estonian equivalents — Lennart used them as authentic Scandinavian terms. There are also words from ancient Paleo-Siberian that we no longer use at all. What did you do with those?

Every word called for a different approach, like always in translation.

Sometimes I could go back to the original source language and culture. Not via Estonian, but to the actual source. Then I'd trace onward to try and find an English equivalent. And where nothing could be found — well, there are small parts in both "Hõbevalge" and "Hõbevalgem" that I omitted in the English version.

When they simply didn't serve the broader purpose of the book, what it should convey today about Estonia and Estonianness to the world.

Thankfully, with Mart Meri's approval, I was allowed to let those parts rest. In other places, I could condense the text a little — when Lennart really got going, sometimes it just didn't add much in full and only made it harder to read.

After the physical book was published, Mart admitted that now it finally made sense to him why many readers find the Estonian version so difficult. Why Lennart wrote densely and sometimes opaquely was a way to overwhelm censorship under the Soviet regime.

When I sensed that internally, I realized it wasn't necessary to retain everything as-is. The English version actually reads better — much better — than the Estonian.

Now it should be translated back into Estonian!

It would be interesting to give the English version to younger readers today and see if they connect more with it than with the Estonian original. In some ways, it's more modern — not because I changed anything significantly, but just because the language, albeit English, is more accessible. Maybe we should consider adapting the Estonian version — summarizing certain parts for so-called beach reading.

Many young people already read fiction in English. I know you translated Eno Raud's "Kilplased" ["Gothamites"] into English. Did the English term for "kilplased" already exist, or did you invent it?

It did exist.

My first thought was: "the Gothamites" — what a terrible translation. There had to be something better, as I immediately associated it with comic book characters — Batman and his Gotham. I didn't want that association. I dug deeper and found it came from Kreutzwald's time, when he adapted tales from the German-speaking world, where they were known as Gothamites. Kreutzwald himself came up with "kilplased."

Did you have to invent new words in English for Lennart Meri's book?

The title itself is invented — there's no such word as "silverwhite" in English.

But Estonian is beautiful that way — you can coin new words so easily, with a snap of the fingers. And people immediately understand. The reader or listener gets a sense of what it means.

"Silverwhite" just felt right, just to translate it directly, knowing where it leads in the book. And I didn't need to explain why the word exists, just like in Estonian, where it isn't necessarily explained either.

At the book launch, I was speaking with Urmas Sutrop, and we talked about how the term "silverwhite" might also evoke the old silver coins...

...that were scraped with a knife and offered to a spring or sacred stone. That's completely understandable to Estonians — we don't need an explanation.

That might be missing from the translation, unfortunately. At least I don't think it's explained that way in the text. But so far, no one's asked what it means or why it's the title. Maybe those questions will come — but perhaps in English, that little mystery is a good thing. You sit and ponder what it could mean.

Did you write a foreword or afterword to help English readers understand things that are obvious to Estonians?

I considered it, but didn't write one. I managed to include everything necessary within the text itself.

In some places, I added footnotes with small clarifications for readers unfamiliar with Estonia. Elsewhere, I expanded a sentence or paragraph slightly — without making it obvious. I like the word muljuma/mudima [to mold or knead]. These additions were molded from the same clay. They help shed more light, like something Lennart himself might have added in conversation.

You have a copy of the book with you. The cover is both elegant and eye-catching.

Yes, I knew what previous versions had looked like and didn't want the publisher to just follow those. I started searching the internet for images of the Kaali crater — it's symbolically significant in the book, especially in the beginning./.../ I found a winter landscape photo of it, maybe on a Saaremaa tourism website. It's a lovely image, with a little spring melt around the crater's rim — very Finno-Ugric and ethereal. I suggested the publisher try to get the rights to use it, and to my joy, they did. I think it's absolutely the right image.

It really is a beautifully bound, dignified book. Do you know the print run?

I don't recall the exact number, but the publisher mentioned it at the launch — just a few thousand, I think.

The Office of the President of Estonia also picked up copies to give as gifts to foreign diplomats and heads of state. I hope it will continue to be available in stores. It's not yet in my own bookshop, but I'm working on that. I hope it becomes a staple both abroad and in Estonia. The book's significance isn't going anywhere — it's only growing.

Edward Lucas, who wrote the foreword and is very important for Estonia, also emphasized that the book remains very relevant and alive today.

Clearly so. I've noticed that you usually translate works by contemporary Estonian authors — those you can meet, chat with, even share a beer with. Lennart Meri is the first you couldn't meet. Is it a conscious choice to focus on your own literary generation?

Not really. Usually, the publisher selects the projects and approaches me. But it is a joy when I can meet the author in person.

But I've also translated quite a lot of poetry, and those authors often aren't with us anymore either.

Even though Lennart passed away just before I moved to Estonia nearly 20 years ago, there was so much of him everywhere that his presence echoes, is still very much felt. It wasn't hard to find common ground with him. /.../

I like it when, translating contemporary authors' works, I know them personally, we have a drink together or meet at the Writer's Union. This allows me to act their part when translating. It's a part of translating – actor's work. Acting out not just the writer's characters, but also the writer as their voice. While your own voice inevitably creeps in to a degree, I try to minimize it.

Very interesting! You're a poet yourself and have translated a lot of Estonian poetry. Is translating rhymed verse harder than free verse?

Definitely. I avoid rhymed poetry when I can. For me, the most important thing is conveying the meaning and voice. Rhyme can get in the way — it's like a baroque layer that the poem doesn't need. /.../

I'd rather focus on the freight, so to speak, than the rails or road it rides on. If I undertake translating rhymed poetry, I start in free verse and only add rhyme if it fits naturally here and there.

"Hõbevalge" includes old folk songs — some in archaic Estonian or the Kuusalu dialect. There's rhyme, but it comes from an oral tradition, not a written one. So I didn't distract myself with the rhyme when translating those.

How's your bookshop in Haapsalu doing?

It's doing well. Closed at the moment — I'm the only one running it!

There's also a big chain store in town, which also sells books, but some people still seek out my little shop. Some buy just one book to support the idea behind it or the endeavor. Others come in and lay 10 books on the counter. Prices are often lower than in big stores, but that's not the point. These people truly love literature — especially physical books. Not that there's something wrong with listening to audiobooks or using e-readers, but there are those who value something you can physically hold in your hand, pass on and keep on your bookshelf. I also fall in the latter category.

And the store offers Estonian literature in translation?

Yes, plus a curated selection of Estonian-language books — lots of poetry, since I read a lot myself. Also second-hand foreign literature. Used Estonian books are easy to find elsewhere, so I focus on the rest.

Sounds like you'll need more shelves!

I moved to a new location last October and ordered new shelves. I filled them up right away and realized I needed more. But with books constantly being bought, it balances out.

How's your pop-rock band Au doing?

We've been in hibernation for a long time...

...but the trees have leafed out again.

They have, while we've been in hibernation for years. But I've heard we're supposed to perform in Finland next summer. So we should get together relatively soon and start rehearsing new material and craziness.

So Estonian fans will have to travel to Finland?

They could! The event is tied to Estonian literature, I believe — so Estonian books and culture are finding a home abroad.

You taught yourself Estonian. Did you teach yourself to play the violin too?

Not at first. I started violin at four using the Suzuki method, which emphasizes listening. We used old cassette tapes to play along. Because of that, I'm convinced, I'm a language person, but a practical one. I want to listen, speak, read — not just know grammar in theory and translate.

Repetition, trial and error — those have shaped every part of my life. Both the good and the bad, both in private and professional life. But I wouldn't be here without that foundation.

People would hardly grow without mistakes and learning from them. Which choir does your bass-baritone sing in now?

Bass, second bass. I've been in the mixed choir Noorus for 10 years. It's much older than me, but we keep singing joyfully; we're still young and we'll see many other choir members from all over Estonia under the Song Festival Arch.

How many Song Festivals have you participated in now?

This will be my second major Song Festival, plus maybe two Youth Song Festivals before that — so my fourth festival in total.

Soon we'll have a Song Festival veteran in the studio. Adam, thank you for the enormous work you've done for Estonian literature in general, and specifically for your translation of "Hõbevalge." It's a beautiful accomplishment and, I believe, a wonderfully readable one too.

It has been a great honor. So, thank you!

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