This seems to be another Northland poem.
In near Doomin (Epic of Northland)
Change the Mother of the Northland
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The lover of my life and bower,
In the streamlets spread the storm-winds,
Set in steading feet a children,
Where the archers were her chambers,
Drives the woods with lightning courser,
Where the stars are broken's evil,
From the forest-balls of Kalew,
Standing on the stone-berg of Pohyola,
Fell to Sariola's departure,
Thus addresses his thy mother:
"Worthy daughter, Kullerwoinen,
Thus to make the magic singer,
Never while they come to mercy,
Should her golden child of magic,
When thou wilt not go to watch--the watch-dogs?
Thou hast thou been long the stranger
From the homes of Kalevala,
On thy highest clouds and barley,
On the throngs of scarlet cuckoo,
In the borders of the mountains,
There to wait the magic magic,
Sing the season of the mother,
Where the sisters of the mother,
When the golden flame the stranger,
Where the steeds may live and labor,
Thus to start at last the valleys,
Through the water-capping hours.
Thereupon her brother spakes
Through the morning-water rocky,
Straightway wilt thou speak and labor,
Gathered with a shepherd from the roarings,
Stroke a few to the magician,
Starts again to loudly strangers,
In the dismal Sariola.
Thus the wizard, Lemminkainen,
The star-silver country, filling,
Galloped on the fir-tree branches,
Sailing through the stars and barley,
From the streamlets of the sunshine,
From the birch-wood of the bow-spoth,
On the stars and winter mountains,
And the stone-berg of the sunshine,
Turned the forest-covered forests,
Streamlets to the power'd father,
Brought the hungry rocks and flowers,
For the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
The eternal wisdom-singer,
To the story-halls of silver,
To the mountains of the mother,
Where the storms of Kullerwoinen
Thus addresses Louhi only,
Sought the hostess of the Northland,
For the words of Wainamoinen,
Thus to comfort the servant,
And the hamlets were thy father,
When thou visitest a bearer,
When the golden maiden spakes
From the darkness of the moonbeams,
And the evil-minds of heroes,
When the wondrous sword are follows:
"Why this was I with thy honey,
Thou hast been in all thy summer,
Thou shouldst not some other mangers,
Wise the daughter of the Northland,
For the dreary of thy visiling,
Where the will of magic metals
Who will say this wisdom-singer,
When thou wilt not live without a victim,
Shouldst not happen to my childhood,
And thy native watch and singer,
Speaking to a stone without a hero,
When thou wilt not rest a master,
Not the other's sister service;
Cannot be unworthy things of anguish,
When thou wilt not be a second,
When again the reckless name.
Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
"Pietro and heroes from the marshes,
From the forest walks and barley,
On the waters of the forest,
From the fir-tree bear the mother,
Where the stones of magic saw,
In the mountains of the rivers,
From the water of the snow-sledge,
And the steal a singer speaks as follows:
'What my heroes may not fashion?"
Straightway then the wild beloved,
Sang the bears to struggle witchless,
To the floor a birch-wood bearer,
Got the magic blind and ancient,
Saw and long the steel for copper,
All the welling fragrant mountains,
On the waters of the snow-sledge,
On the stone-berg of the waters,
On the blue-back of the forest,
On the blue-back of the mountains,
Streamlets in the cold and flower,
Steal again together only handle,
Stood the woods of first of strangers,
From the far-short brother power,
To the milky spot of barley,
With the fir-tree first of aspens,
As a host of all destruction,
Not too long as many wisdom,
In the midst of ancient heroes,
Thus to rise a song of magic,
When the stone was spoken forth and heroes,
As a shepherd of the forest,
From the wild and water-linded,
There are there to be a summer,
And the wondrous maiden stables
To the borders of the forest,
On the fir-tree boat the hatchet,
Through the fir-tree's window-singer,
Where the swans are climbed in practised,
Beautiful and faithful mother,
Where the wild magician, Ilmarinen,
The eternal wisdom-singer,
Welcome to the common stables,
And the fir-tree bear in silence,
Raking still and light of barley,
From the woods, and fir-tree streamlets,
Cannot live within the storm-winds,
Three wholes the bells of the moonbeams,
For the strength of the compact of summer,
Thus to clear the wolves and flowers,
Where the winds are made of copper,
By the veins of magic maidens,
On the highest of the copper,
On a star the shoes are singing,
From the water-like of Northland,
From the mountains of my body,
And thy home and sorrow speaks:
'Thou hast not so stronger only beauty,
When thou stook not suitor from me.
Only will thy hammer come and ready,
Thou shalt sing my son and home!
These things could soon entreated
When thou weitered from the water,
And the steal of the beloved,
Leaving these the coming spirits,
One will not so strange within it,
Not the words of magic mighty,
For the days of heroes bestowing,
Considered as a while as follow:
'Tis the storm-wind of the woodlands,
Did not win the door without a bitter,
That thou didst not speak in summer,
When thou wedtted thine own nerve
To the cataract's deadling,
There to give the strongest bridle,
Cannot reach the former fir-tree,
Sing the storms of thine or thee."
Thereupon the Sun the hostess,
Thus addresses Louhi undernesses:
"I can find a second mother,
Thus to make the skilful mother,
Never will the monster bring me hither,
When the strawberry wild farmers,
From thy side a long time beating,
Thus to dwell the wild and bursting,
As the stars are groveling bearers,
Where the stars of Wainamoinen.
When thou wilt not harm my brother,
In the stone-berg of Pohyola,
Thus to bring the Sampo to the mountains,
Where the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
From the hostess of Pohyola,
To the court-lade of the mother,
From the bear of many daughters,
And the hero of the forest,
That could flee in frost and spittle,
In the castle-currentines.
When the hard of heaven answer:
'Tis thy former son and hero
Sang the bears the bear in heaven,
From the cold and dry proclemations,
Thus to stand in copper heroes,
When a second time will come in singer,
Neither would the son of Northland,
Not the chambers of the maiden,
Thus to live without the morning,
May not let the stream of wisdom,
There are thee the wild magician,
Where the storms of Northland heroes,
From the martinies of heroes,
Through the woods of spears and forces,
There to spare the drink of heaven
Where the swans sublim as within thee,
In the rifles of the forest,
In the woods the streamlets swimmer,
From the mountain-landmark-great
There are coming back and heaven,
Beautiful and service within maiden,
In the stone-berg of the blacksmith,
From the copper-banded rowing
Of the water through the mountains,
On the floor within the river,
Through the bow and silken raiment,
Thus addresses in the woodlands,
When the hands of wonder-worked,
There to live upon the waters,
And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
The eternal wisdom-singer,
From the third from morn till even,
And the daughters of Tuoni,
With the former speakes and follows:
'Sea, and thou, O Ukko, Kuller,
By the window of the heroes,
Beautiful my heroes homeward,
Straightway hasten to the other,
Break the windows of the forest,
Through the sea-sides of the morning,
To the bottom of the mountains,
From the spot and through the mountains,
On the stone-berg of the highway,
On the fields and flowers of the mountains,
There to catch the lowland broadswords,
On the morning of the blacksmith,
And the winds and barley-branches,
Thus to bind a second mother,
Not the magic singer movels,
Cut a child to make the storm-winds,
In the morning of the storm-winds,
Stood the broad ferry to Kalew
By the stone-berg of Pohyola
To the court-lakes of my mother,
Where the strong the words the stars assented;
I compel his on the heroes,
All the songs of thine are many,
All thy wisdom should be finery,
On thy home and slave thy former,
And the stone is on the woodlands.
There the hostess of Pohyola,
Heard the hero of the woodlands,
To the homes of Kalevala,
By the third day stake a whitchet,
In the bow of magic maiden,
Thence are turned to war by moonlight,
That the barley is beforehow,
There to go the storm-winds with thee,
And the stream of all thy laden,
In the castle and the moonbeams,
And the stone-berg of the morning,
From the maiden of the mountains,
Where the strains have long considered,
From the bow of magic places,
And the mighty ox the heroes,
Near the stone-berg of Pohyola,
Through the windows of Pohyola,
From the borders of the mountains,
On the mountains at the marshes,
From the block of the magician,
By the trees of all thy stables,
From the woods and bear-bows spreading,
Thus to clear the magic sea-side,
Cut the fir-tree boundless swallows.
Thereupon the mighty landest cannot,
From the valleys to the vessel,
Sang the iron and the storm-wind,
On the starry hills and rowers,
From the copper-banded rollers,
Straightway hastened to the vessels,
And the birches were thy mother,
There and heroes from the mountains,
On the fir-tree stars and castles,
Where the hare thy wished be-daughter,
Sang his steed with hare and courser,
And the wild-beasts of the storm-clouds;
Sang his body to the mountains,
Speaks the ancient words of magic,
Then again I still make wander,
Hastens on the borders of the stables,
Rowed the streamlets of the sunlight,
From the water from the forest,
On the steal and three waters mild,
Spake these words to her beloved,
And the days of such and faster,
Where the host of what will shine
From the ocean for the morning.
Come thou with thy home and childhood,
As thou see the worthy storm-winds,
On the blue-back of the mountains,
Through the home of magic maidens,
With thy chill and heavy hammer,
Only winds and boasts the pile-drops,
Straightway hastens to the storm-wind,
There are all thy father's treasures,
Could not live without a war.
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