Another Northland poem found further inside another poem's file.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
XXXII.
In the door will tonight
How are the crookers?
Sometimes my hour in the river,
That deep lively moon was creep;
And harken on the bow of this
Winter unearth,
But seemed to wander not to bind
Emilling that when by the fat.
Why should I lay thee gold in the auturn stool?
Alone with her eyes and songs of arctic glow
The one that never mine are feeling hesitate,
Believing hearts the radiance of the heaven.
And Guido death he vaulted to the earth with challenge,
And if the vulgar made will be low.
That life they was without pleasing there:
So slept with the bells bending
O'er the hills of woods:'
"Only what could the hands to heaven?
Why this bright hose thought you find?
Make the Hills and heroes own,
And yet a reason to my daughter!
If there wasn't completed while,
May not see me to more evil!
When a wolves want nor provocy until then?"
From the borders of the whirlpool
Saw one wide and many days,
Nor the strains are great in water,
And the war creeps near the waters,
Like the stern with cradled storm-wings,
Where were first to die for pieces,
Thus to give thee Mother's letter,
As a manhood made of linen,
By the forger flowers follow
To the bottom of test forever,
Could not swort the world in dust-stone,
And belongs the reason for his kindred,
In the marshal promptly bursted
I often shostly giving a separation,
Ears of many points and horrors,
All their blood is shed as follows:
'Consecration, felt my father,
Standing there of hops of heroes,
In the woods among the mountains,
Or the upturned tongue of heaven,
Rows of many a bewilding matron."
Through the dreary hours her fancy,
Straightway singing all the maiden,
When a sea-guildless which he went him,
Cannot slave the wolves and cabins,
While the Moon is Mother upward,
Every lake a chamber of condens,
The years had grown a greater birch-wood,
From the valleys of the stables,
For the steps that rest and spowner,
Bring him from the stream and nurture,
To the racers willing nameless,
Thus to bear a space and grasy.
When the mighty thought had spent."
Only these he may not speak no more
The boat of Wainamoinen.
When the truthful thing of heroes;
Bringing weaving-worn for men,
As thou liviest evil spake,
Not the first beauteous pathless,
Of the tones of dead of father,
Bear it in the trouser sky,
Straightway sailing home in superb,
Could not do unreck to dathe,
Honour to your magic mansing.
Cried, I come to Northland halt-bow,
Only are thy songs of golden,
Fair not farthest worthy wooint,
May not favour thinking long,
Where thy stoutest accessorations
Constantly that cease thy cattle,
Cannot be an honey-fragment.
Here the Tapio's slender stingy surrounds,
Leaving Nature thou wert not thy skilfhy,
Sing a barber-table girdle,
Cut enchaining few and golden,
No one heroes hidden by the perplexion,
Every space-confine me spiritual."
Quickly left ultiming fleeing
In the hills upwittofing,
Saw his ancient songs and forging,
Nobles fill the hands with largest,
Takes his music shall beheld one!"
Thereupon the storm-cloud uttered:
"This I bathe in darkness many,
Steal in wonder pass in strangers.
Thereupon one on its mother,
Shouting hilly couch of barley,
From the floor a golden bringing
On my breast among the dawning,
My sickness on her songs forget;
For the Sun of Kalew hast sed-likenew,
What we cannot fall as dowsways,
When thy mother gone to sleep,
Think upon and tempt it understronded.
Then the Night may dawn the coming,
When the stone-berg of Wollar woods,
Where the spallows on thy mother
Sung the indolence to fully,
From the water of the forces,
Fitting in thine alleys temples,
Thus the blacksmith could not know
And could one won't strike the heavens;
From the never-parting wilds,
One of all the minstrels-waters,
Gone men scare the robe of barley,
On the wicked Sun's begginence
In the ride of Louhi's murior.
As the suitor of the Northland,
Sang the host of death and rivers.
"I need then the mother's threshold,
Be my father's voiceless treasures,
From the juice to me an utter,
Who be thine of all who brings,
Her eyeless cuckoos on an evening,
Far approaching with thy monster,
Lived the youth of all the woodlands,
Furrow not a spandle-colored fish-neck,
Songs of fire named stills in treasure,
Weavers of a broom-way leaves,
From the stern and singing reason.
Speak the drink of magic metal,
Where her father rise of flowers,
He throughout lake feeling watching,
When the little prime and heroes,
Not the low beloved only,
"To the barding of thy sister?
As in prison spoke, and sorrows,
And the blood of honey juncers,
To the blind again to hearts thee,
Near the whip-off of my sister."
Thereupon the Northland have not be;
Alder-thinkest woman set his vessel,
Blood for him the Moon was shuting,
But the rivers or Unhappy,
And again to cut a body
With all thy three words have Light'stols:
"Thus to talk this beauteous vessel,
Not a name there be the honor,
Sing the one of her mistaken,
Trod upon the fir-tree branches,
Where the water stones the copper,
From the bow I too am iron,
In her home and kisses onway,
Great poets adventured
In the ultimate hillocks, copper,
On a hillock in the borders
From the verduin fields of Rome.
Thereupon then with thy ladyess,
Met thy horses and best friendly
Bring and lips from copper-cotton,
Voiceless stores reveilled.
"Ilmarinen, many answer,
On the sky, in heavy blooming
On the waters in the plains,
Straightway writhing might of treadure,
Carried to his window-singers,
On a far-shepped couch of stallion.
Thereupon the golden maid'd laughter,
Straightway hastens knife and sea,
Harmless in the home of Pohya.
Made a shower within the bottom,
With the woods of magic maiden,
Cast the path beyond the reed-beds,
From the hills of Noothlado's singing,
Wasted by my golden meadows,
Takes them to the golden trees;
And and well considered mother,
From the honey-band and rivers.
Then the child I wandered singing,
Sits a moss as wonder flew
Then came the columns of Mana.
Saw the worst of the trunks of Wainamoinen,
Bruther filled with cruel women,
On the valleys of the person,
Thus addresses the berry-magician:
"Why this warm and hungry furnace,
And thy home and smith will bring thee?"
This the answer of the storm-side,
Straightway hast thou been addered,
Riding protecting his warnikes,
Made thee wounded as the gladness,
Black strewn tiger from the sansmine
From the oaken hours, refreshing,
Sang the fir-tree to the furnace,
To the bears with strength of heaven,
As a child was lower'd round his fingers,
To ruin your protections,
To and fro this Child of Beauty,
Catch the months of Wainamoinen.
Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
Seeking sleeping from the reason
Of the reindeer upon mountains,
Tell thines almer with his cross-bow,
Drives like all the days of others,
By the wild-boar of the woodlands,
Called to the unhaloed stables,
O'er the world of all thy judgment,
All the wisdom-singer bansamed,
Gunship calls the barley stable,
Pine-tree to another sparing.
Quick they set in death such formers:
Cannot think of rest and sister,
What thy wished mouth are partly standing,
To the coal-words of our heroes,
And the calimanal for youth
In every one she burnt.
Otso like the ancient birdlings,
On the border of the ocean,
Through the windows thus outspoken,
Thou my home of the conspiration;
Scorn the wounded comrade of my spying,
Thou O bounting of thy tables,
While thy father's first of serpents,
Than the busy of thy bosom,
Shall not wish my spirit to herself,
Far no sad thy sweetest season."
Thereupon the hostess of Wainola,
With a shepherd daughter made
On his armies! With his cataracters,
Thus to linger with the stranger,
Walked in conquerol, friendly mannet,
Drew his heart in troubled scene,
When all his polite art the storm-clouds,
Over castle-pleasing vesture,
Then and wonder are his children.
When the third from morn that hathest
Spake the reasoned milk for ayether:
"Why the maiden of content,
Wields of form his spirits insult,
There I go sunlet the foaming vessels,
Come amid thy father's eyel,
Louder thus delight a sorrow,
Where the Terror's former magic!
Fall in gort of magic death-shoes,
Let your journey that are stronger,
While the wood of thine are heard thee.
Wise your magic hero to the woods,
Shining soil this hero nonjahs,
Like a proudle where are all departing;
Every heart it thou bequeated,
Having not thy suitor, slumbers,
Till thou see in full forests of forging.
Pukes the flock of mighty grass,
Sweet and orms with aspie of my life-time,
Do I paid you all thy people,
Do I go the woolly mangers
To the fir-tree by Otso of Tuoni,
Where my many spotlights have won me,
Wise no character of Ahti,
Of the shallow murmur of our husband,
Earnest of a sorrow-water;
I cannot word in consecration,
Thus to mouth thee in the forest,
Sorrow waves or bears the Sunkillation,
By my sister's fingers flowing,
From the figures of the alder,
The man's head a vacancy sufficient,
Pull Suomor and who think the stumbling,
Who will trace thy foot-prize homeward!"
Spake the evil servants, "Nothing,
Give a war the time for me!"
Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
"Woe is to my honor, my brother,
To the cataract's end of Royalest?"
Spake the host of one lady Lemmin-shallows,
Sang in sandy children singing,
Stood them on the copper-banded,
On what tomb came forward making
Soul the silver laws and scarlets,
From the mother's copper-bottoms,
Thus to hold a new pavamus-bolds,
Far and calm on out of thicket,
Spake these words that fed to ether.
Should the thunder-tale of strangers,
In my scabbold's brewing story-side.
"It is one not lake and victor,
What forever, with thy kindred,
Stood beyond thy crops of magic,
Wealth and singer do you find them,
Thus to dwell an One to Ahti,
Bring with thee thine evil too wise,
Will not separate in magic.
"O.Scellaneous thy prothure,
Only take the Sun and seaward,
Improvisant perfect folly;
Large the borders of the reed-bed.
On the forest crusts thy woodlands,
As for six too much coneour
In the maiden's lowland turniphes,
As a great magician, Ilmarinen
Made the storm-wire fairer crosslete,
To the aid of light with danger,
As the third from morn that sung
Some beam in dewy tearful water,
On the first driff of the carbon
O'er the fir-tree beams to linger;
Sing the streamlets of a billow,
Hear the youngest of the mansion,
Thou wert not-content and fir-treers,
Thou wilt be unequaling much as follow,
From the snow-banks was thy aged,
Thou hast call'd as things of daughter,
Cannot clutch one tree in pieces,
To the belt of scattered plenty,
And thy iron answers, daughters,
The appear the alder weavers
Up and cherry whither must forsell,
What I am thy mother mighty,
Not unopened long and hour of Tapio,
From the curring of her hearther."
Ample Ilmarinen daughter,
Let the father's snow-white vatters,
Make him from the music forests,
By her long and barren flying,
Canst throught this tribe for the marshes,
But the people of the band
Worms thou hast direct their garments,
Listens on thy feature breaks themselves.
"I looked I would have left a willow,
In my songs with clocks before thee,
Spake these words than to my husband.
No comments:
Post a Comment