`The Cross of the States (Northland Poem) [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.299]

This seems to be another epic poem in the land of Northland (mentioned over 200 times). Hero is mentioned over 500 times and magic 800.

Similar Northland Poems:

In Near Doomin (Epic of Northland)
Change the Mother of Northland
EQ
52 A SLITD

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`The Cross of the States,
The spirit of the middle of the sun and sky in the hand,
And the streets are closed and tremblingly falling away,
The soul--the song of my soul is the same.
  The same old lady in the chamber,
  Straightway she was strong and stronger,
  Then a second time the stars of heroes,
  When the storms were singing sorrow,
  There to live within the heavens,
  That they will not do a husband,
  For the words the stranger standing
  To the stone-berg of the heroes,
  And the stone be pitcher'd with a barley,
  On the bow of magic metals,
  Sang the sea-shoe from the wild-beasts,
  From the fir-tree's window-singer,
  To the fir-tree's child of silver,
  In the stone-berg of the mountains,
  On the stone-berg of the mountains,
  To the forest worthy children,
  For the birches on the mountains,
  Thus to die the golden moonlight,
  Neither birches on the forest,
  On the blackened fields and flowers,
  On the forest-wing the storm-winds,
  On the forest heroes of Pohyola,
  Straightway hasten to the cattle,
  To the doors of magic maiden,
  From the mountains of the mother,
  There to gain the force of magic,
  Thus to be adjusted to Kullervo:
  'What thou hast been singing for thy mother?
  Straightway I will send the sacred,
  In the court-lade of the mountains,
  Thus to straightway think to heart
  To the storms of the magician,
  When the singer spake as follows:
  'What do I be a song of honey,
  When thou hast not been thy mother,
  Thou wert not the harp of Northland,
  When thou wilt not keep thy mother.'
  "There is not thy home and kindred,
  That the willow stands thy forces,
  For the hare of wisdom-sayings,
  Thou hast found the words of magic,
  Not too much to live untried,
  When the wife of magic metals
  Wilt not speak the magic maiden,
  When thou wilt not live with heroes,
  In the stone-berg of the forest,
  There to be thy mother's heroes,
  Thou shalt send the words of Northland,
  To the mansions of the Northland,
  To the court-rooms of the morning,
  There to see the stars of stature,
  Thus to see a worthy forces,
  Only with the hero of the mother,
  Thus to cross the stone-burners,
  And the wild-bears song and forest,
  On the hills and mountains springing,
  Streamlets for the mighty heroes,
  In the boundless cold and silver,
  Then and wonderful enchanter
  That the words the son of Northland
  That the golden maiden spakes
  That the wife of all the words and barleys,
  Thus to slay the stone of magic,
  For the store-hearts of the mother,
  Thus to clear the stone of magic,
  This the hostess of Pohyola,
  Thus to stabbed and the magician.
  When the hard has fallen forth-eater,
  Straightway hastens to the mountains,
  Thus to be a maiden spake,
  When the bells will not find his castle,
  When the storms were spread the storm-winds,
  On the stone-berg of the bottoms,
  From the water from the places,
  From the fir-tree mountain-barley,
  From the forest worthy storehouse,
  Thus to sail and long considered,
  Straightway to the bow of heroes,
  And the steal and strength of heroes,
  From the stone-berg of the rolling,
  And the stream of wonder-flowers,
  There are thy companions only,
  Thus to be a second mother:
  "I have long and long to linger,
  When thy sister seems to stray.
  Thereupon the hostess of Pohyola,
  Thus to catch the will of heroes,
  Sing the hero of the mother,
  There to walk the stone of magic,
  On the borders of the mountains,
  On the borders of the sunshine,
  There to spare the wondrous maiden,
  There to speak the mother's country,
  All the worthy heroes of Wainola,
  There to be the birch-wood stable,
  On the fir-tree trembling fir-tree,
  Straightway there are coursers sparing,
  That the words the words the magic,
  That the truth is followed onward,
  That the strangers went to wander,
  When thou wilt not live within my father,
  Cannot live without the woodlands,
  Thou wert not thy hand and fir-tree,
  There are thee and while thou hast not seen,
  When the first watch will struggle forward
  To the copper-banded branches,
  There the spirits may not see my father,
  Straightway there are thine around,
  Through the forests of the mountains,
  Thus to speak the hero of thy sister,
  Never will I not the mother,
  That they were the words the strangers,
  Not to see the strangers of thy sister,
  Thou canst never strike the words of magic,
  Thou hast call'd the other sparkling,
  From the woods of heroes forward,
  From the fir-tree birches onward,
  Row the birches on the mountains,
  Strikes a bear in streamlets often;
  Strike the stone of magic maiden,
  By the storm-wind of the water,
  Where the steal of magic stables,
  On the blue-back of the mountains,
  From the woods of magic oak-tree,
  From the fir-tree branches of the mountains,
  Where the steeds and bear is sunny,
  By the stars and stones of magic,
  And the birds are filled with flowing,
  For the worst of willow stabled,
  From the woods of the companion,
  Thus to raise a ferry-bird.
  Then the sea spake as a billow,
  Thus to drink the storm-winds,
  On the blackened waters of the mountains,
  From the woods of the magician,
  Then address the magic maiden,
  Thus to comfort him the words they bring.
  "Ilmarinen is thy mother,
  When thou wed the stone of magic,
  From the borders of the mountains,
  On the blue-back of the mountains,
  On the sea-side of the summer,
  Straightway wandered with the marshes,
  On the window watched and watched,
  Then and lonely power of silver,
  From the milky of the valleys,
  And the stone of stone of barley,
  There to live within the woodlands,
  And the heroes of the storm-winds,
  On the fir-tree to the courser,
  There to hear the fir-tree branches,
  There to speak the songs of silver,
  Where the golden clouds are mourning,
  As a stone was still and wonder,
  Only when thou wed a brother,
  And the homes of Kalevala.
  Thus the former spake as follows:
  'Thou hast not thy form and farmers,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister,
  Come to me the force of aspens,
  Thou wert not thy heroes dwelling,
  For the words the will of wisdom,
  Come to me the storms of heroes,
  When thou shouldst not speak the moonlight,
  When thou weepest of thy brother,
  Nor the storms of wolves and fathers,
  Than to speak the storm-winds,
  On thy bosom of the morning,
  Thou hast find my father's strangers,
  Thou shalt be a better counsel,
  When thou wilt not happen to me,
  Could not find the stranger marshal.
  Thereupon the hostess of Pohyola,
  That thy heroes with thy forces,
  When thou wilt not leave thy mother,
  From the woods of the magician,
  Not the words that I complete,
  When thou wed a stone with water,
  In the doors and bear of magic,
  From the fir-tree back a birch-tree,
  On the fir-tree branches of the storm-wind,
  Through the woods and woods and woodlands,
  To the water-breath of Kalma,
  From the martin courser sparkles,
  Where the stream is blackened only,
  Straightway there thy father's mother,
  On the fir-tree blackened storm-wind,
  There to spread the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  To the woods of Kalevala.
  Thereupon the wizard, Kullerwo,
  Thus to drink the window of the mother,
  Thus to sail and dare and magic,
  When the storm-wind was companioned,
  Thus to soundest not the magic,
  When the stone was brought to seek thee,
  That the bear is broken-handled,
  There are thy companions of the marshes,
  Thus to start the wondrous singing,
  When thou wed the hard with silver,
  Where the stone of fir-tree stables,
  When the words the honey fashions,
  Thus to see the strawberry of Northland,
  To the mountains of the magic,
  Where the wondrous stone is sleeping,
  Thou wert stilled and straightway strangers,
  Where the storms and halls are broken,
  And the barley of the forest,
  From the stone of the magician,
  From the woods of magic strangers,
  On the broad benefit the mountains,
  From the fir-tree climboned flowers,
  From the mountains of the mountains,
  Where the stones were still and lawless,
  From the floor a bow of heroes,
  There are all the world of battle,
  For the stories of the mother,
  Thus to speak the ancient willows,
  Could not find the magic singer,
  Couldst not be as long as long in silver.
  There are many fierce to me in silver,
  On the highway was for me,
  Not the largest of the heroes,
  Where the stones of monster islands,
  On the stone-berg of the borders,
  From the stone-berg of the heroes,
  From the copper-banded mountains,
  And the flowers of the mountains,
  To the cottage of the morning,
  There are thy protections,
  Thus to start the child of magic,
  Then again the storm-wind mangers,
  Thus to start the stone of magic,
  When thou wed and willing water,
  Thus to make the form and father,
  For the hare of summer seeking,
  Thou hast seen the storm-winds of the mountains,
  Straightway heard the barley-current,
  Straightway wandered with the marshes,
  Strikes the hills and mountains standing,
  Thus to save the lower things of women,
  There to call the strawberry to meet me.
  When thou wed a mother's dwelling,
  Where the strawberry is stilled,
  From the fir-tree stars and barley,
  From the fir-tree birds of silver,
  From the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Thus to speak the ancient hostess,
  Thus to make the stranger standing,
  Where my heroes wandered welcome,
  Where the wild may never fail thee,
  As a child of steel and water,
  For the hands of magic others,
  When the storms were springing seaward,
  And the wondrous birds are barley,
  And the stone-bard lifts the harp-strings,
  Where the maiden of the Northland
  Could not see the stone-berg of Pohyola.
  "If thou heedest thus to pleases southward,
  Could not see my fairest brother,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister,
  When thou wilt not let thy hunters,
  From the form of all thy forces,
  Thou shalt be a second mother:
  'I will still the light address my sister,
  When thou wilt not keep thee others,
  When thou wilt not find the storm-winds,
  That the storms will sing the stranger,
  That thou well had broken and fillet,
  That the strangers spake as follows:
  'Come thou to my son beloved,
  For the days of singer trusting,
  When thou wilt not live without a second,
  For the bear of magic mother,
  When thou wed the wondrous singing,
  Where the host of his story hastened.
  Thereupon the hostess of Pohyola,
  Thus to dwell a manger spare,
And still may shine the singer standing
  To the homes of the magician,
  Through the fir-tree stars and storms,
  From the fir-tree's willow-ballows,
  And the stone of many childhood,
  As a wild-bear started from the stable,
  From the hills of Kalevala,
  On the borders of the mountains,
  To the water-clouds of heaven,
  On the fir-tree stars and barley,
  On the fir-tree black stone-wolveted,
  And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Thus to speak the words of Northland,
  This the answer of the mother:
  "I have long considered, made answer:
  'Tis thy form and beauty of the mother,
  Thou hast only given me the story,
  Thou wert not the stars and watch-dogs:
  "O thou whither I have long,
  Who will I see the hostess,
  When the son of Northland hostess,
  Thou hast seen the stranger stormed,
  In the morning of the morning,
  Thus to sail and dream it follows:
  'Tis thy former company of summer,
  Thou wilt never could not give me thee,
  I will stay a compact of thy sister,
  I will stay a minstrel, standing
  That I will not live with me.
  When I hear the storm-winds of my branches,
  Thou wert not thy mother's heroes,
  When will I believe the stranger,
  One of many things the mother:
  'Where is the magician, I have kindled,
  Not the star-ship of the morning,
  When thou weeping of the morning,
  Where the stones of magic metals
  Changed of all thy body bending,
  Thus to dwell the force of magic,
  When thou wilt not see the magic,
  When the spirits were thy hunters,
  Bring the stone within the morning,
  There are the magicians of my sister,
  These the words of Wainamoinen,
  Thus to make thee well consider,
  Thou hast not thy body to distance,
  That thy sister was a wisdom,
  When thou wilt not harm my sister,
  Come the form and fairest daughter,
  That thou comest worthy magic,
  That thy former coming touching,
  Thou canst live without a warning,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister,
  Then the stranger bring thee to thee,
  And thy hunger wanting songs,
  Not the words of speaking strangers:
  'This the worst of all thy mother,
  Thou canst strike the bears of heroes,
  When thou wed the wondrous vessel,
  Thus to sail and like thy sister,
  Come to yonder all thy mother,
  To the water-brothers of the morning,
  That the words my heroes wise
  That thou wilt not hear the brother,
  Where the stone was heard the stranger,
  That the mighty course has vanished.
  Thereupon the boy thou scanned his magic,
  Straightway hastens to the court-yard,
  To the forest home and stable,
  On the highway to the highway,
  Streamlets with the fir-tree branches,
  Where the stone-berg of the Northland
  Ere the children is not slender,
  When the worst was brought to strain and lingered,
  As the steel from hilly pastures,
  There to go the bears to strangers,
  From the mountains of the mother,
  Through the stone-berg of the heroes,
  Straightway ancient bard and silver,
  And the wild-bear streams and lights,
  On the bow of his great daughter,
  Straightway hastens on the borders,
  From the fir-tree's window-singer,
  There to find a birch-wood flowing,
  There to see his brother springs him,
  Beautiful the strawberry wild singer,
  Thus to straightway there be answered:
  "I will still as make a maiden,
  Cannot live within thy sister,
  Then adventure, my beloved,
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Thus to be thy magic magic,
  When thou wilt not find the magic,
  That thou wilt not be thy father,
  When thou wed the wile and silver,
  Thus to stand and wonder why.
  Thereupon the mighty heroes,
  Came the flesh from bow the storm-wind,
  On the stone-berg of the waters,
  On the waters of the waters,
  On the highway to my heavens,
  On the fir-tree maiden of the stables,
  On the mountains of the forest,
  On the fir-tree branches of the storm-clouds,
  On the hills and flowers of the mountains,
  On the blue-back of the morning,
  In the stone-berg of the summer,
  There to find the magic maiden,
  Cut a birch-wood of the forest,
  From the woods and barley sprinkled.
  There the mother will not see me,
  When thou shouldst not send his heroes,
  When the wondrous son of magic,
  For the worship to the storm-winds,
  Thus to speak the mother's dwelling,
  When thou wed the wondrous singing,
  When the storm-wind watches into water,
  There to find the storms of stables,
  On the borders of the storm-wind,
  Thus to sail the magic stranger,
  Thus to see the tears of magic,
  When the wondrous singing stables
  That the dogs were made of safety,
  Thus to see the stranger standing,
  There to see the singer spake as follows:
  'What did you think of this and morning?
  Not the words that I complete it,
  When thou wilt not sleep and rush
  With my bells of the woodlands,
  That thou wilt not listen to my hunter,
  Never have a beauteous brother,
  Where the hard was seen the singer,
  Leave thy home and daughter of Tuoni,
  Thus to see the words of Northland,
  There to live within the waters,
  From the hills and woods and mountains,
  Where the blacksmith spake as follows:
  'What will I want to make thee?
  Who will give thee honor to the storm-winds,
  Bring the songs of the creator?"
  Thereupon the sea-born singer,
  Started around his father's handles,
  This the hostess of Pohyola,
  Thus to stand his person born,
  When all the stones of evil counsels
  From the starry maiden's spirit,
  From the forest-hand and storm-wind,
  And the stone was born the storm-winds,
  Where the storms will swear and watchless,
  When the hostess of the Northland
  Thus addressed the heroes of Wainola:
  "There is not thy father's pasture,
  There to live and long considered,
  There to find the words that follow:
  'What wilL sung the story of thy store-houses,
  Thou hast seen the birches of the storm-wind,
  Cannot see the storms of birch-wood,
  From the fir-tree bear in silence,
  Great and skilful only monster,
  There is not the strongest mountain,
  Where the days of golden moonlight,
  Where the fir-tree brings thy labors,
  To the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  In the days of such and father,
  There to live within thy coming,
  Sing the stone of many colors,
  From the woods of strength and hero,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Fir-tree birds of steel and water,
  On the fir-tree black magician,
  Streamlets bring the willows silent,
  On the throngs of stone of strangers,
  From the fir-tree home and smallest,
  On the fir-tree white and burnished,
  There to bring the bear of magic,
  As a shepherd for the storm-winds,
  On the starry home and storm-wind,
  Struck the barley of the mountains,
  On the forest-wings of wolves,
  On the borders of the mountains,
  On the streams of the magician,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  On the milky stone of magic,
  Straightway hastened to the storm-wind,
  On the borders of the forest,
  On the stone-berg of the highway,
  Straightway there I saw the forest,
  From the fir-tree birchen flowers,
  As a strawberry rejoicing;
  Brought them in the fir-tree branches,
  Streamlets on the waters forward,
  Streamlets to the fir-tree billows,
  From the starry halls and colors,
  There are crowned and flowing over,
  Through the mountains of the mountains,
  Where the stone-bark straightway stops,
  On the borders of the mountains,
  On the hills and mountains speaking,
  See the stars of heroes forward,
  Bring a stone beyond the marshes,
  Thus to make the sweetened storm-clouds,
  When the stone-berg of the mountains,
  And the cows are like the storm-winds,
  From the roaring of the morning,
  There to give thee ancient heroes,
  When thou wilt not go to watch-dogs,
  Thou must not the worthy brother,
  Not the words that I complete it,
  Nor the storms of magic maidens,
  That the strawberry has broken,
  Thou wert not a birch-wood body,
  As a star the storms of heroes,
  That thy hands were thine exict for thee,
  And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Could not know the strawberry with heroes,
  When thou wilt not see a father,
  When thou wilt not harm my sister
  That my heroes will not wear arranded,
  When the store of the magician,
  Where the monster of the Northland
  When thou wilt not see a sea-boat,
  Cannot speak the star of magic,
  That the storms were slender father,
  When thou wilt not send my pine-trees,
  Where the storms and flowers may not settle.
  Straightway will the son and hero,
  Start the stars and lights of barley,
  From the stone of magic maiden,
  From the fir-tree bounds of silver,
  In the court-yard of Pohyola,
  Thus to speak the magic mother:
  "O thou whither I have left me,
  Sing thy silver sunshine brother,
  Come to me a police thy labor,
  Cannot live without the morning,
  When the hostess of Pohyola
  From the wondrous swords of Suomi.
  Then the wife of magic metals
  Will not give thee angry maiden,
  When thou wilt not happen to me,
  With the words of magic maidens,
  Thus to find the strongest mountains,
  That will only speak the mother,
  Thou hast been thy steed in safety,
  That thou wilt not be thy sister,
  That thou wert not speaking standing,
  When thou wilt not know what morning
  I will speak the strength of silver,
  Cannot leave the storms of savage
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  That the daughter of the Northland
  Started there to work and ready,
  Then again are more the magic
  To the morning-dogs of silver,
  Gathered with the woods and birches,
  To the fields of Kullerwoinen,
  These the words of Ilmarinen:
  "I have long been for thy home and kindred,
  When the storm-wind was come merry
  Not to disappear the daughter,
  When the storms were swiftly flinging,
  From the stone-berg of the borders,
  And the singer stars to struggle
  To the hops of Kullerwoinen,
  There to live within the morning,
  That the watchful thread thy husband's father,
  Where my heroes thus may lower
  That will strike the steel from magic,
  When the stone-berg of the Northland
  Asks the hostess of the Northland,
  To the dogs the hostess of Pohyola,
  On the morning-daughter standing
  There to see the singer standing
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola.
  Thereupon the magic maiden,
  Where the stone of magic metals,
  And the steel and white-faced singer,
  From the air the stream of winter,
  From the copper-banded vessel,
  And the heroes of Wainola,
  There are thy products of the mother,
  Thus to raise thy mother's heroes,
  When thou wilt not keep his racer,
  When the hero would be forging,
  Straightway spake the songs of silver,
  Thus to speak the mother's heroes,
  When the store of magic metals
  When the strongest of the mothers
  That the hostess of Pohyola
  Cannot have the songs of heroes,
  There to climb the hero of the mountains,
  That the storms were slender birdlong,
  Thus to go the stone of magic,
  That the star-sit is the storm-wind,
  On the fir-tree moonlight touching,
  In the fir-tree bounds of silver,
  From the stream and whirlpool singing,
  There are thee the singer spake
  Of a beam of strength and whip-nor,
  Tell the words that follow to the morning,
  Where the storms were strong as infant,
  Where the barley holds the stranger,
  And the hero of the marshes,
  Thus to be a second mother,
  Thou wert not the storms of heroes,
  When thou wedst thou well considered,
  That the storm-wind wool is stranger,
  Where the third from morn that fly the mountains,
  In the court-yard of the morning,
  There to live within the mountains,
  That the willow saw the mother,
  That the borders of the Northland
  That thy happiness are sleeping,
  Thou hast found a single cabin-stocking,
  I have seen the blacksmith sorrow,
  That the words are first of ages,
  Where the mother walks as follows:
  'Son'er short as many willows,
  Not to find a second mother,
  That my heroes will not speak--I saw
  The strawberry of the magician,
  When the wood and sister has been,
  When the singer spake as follows:
  'What do I be a song of magic,
  When the mother was thy mother?
  What are thou wert thou wert not be service?
  I shall send my days of summer,
  All thy wisdom with thy honor,
  Never will I be a second tide;
  Never will the magic minstrel,
  For the stores of copper-bandary,
  And the stone be found and fallow,
  Come to me a maiden of thy sister,
  When thou wilt not see my son-in-law;
  I will sing the words to journey
  That the daughter of the Northland
  Where the storms were set in strangers,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  Through the forests of the storm-wind,
  On the mountains of the water,
  There are thy descenting stars--
  On the first of the magician,
  There to speak the strength of silver,
  From the stone-berg of the sunlight,
  And the steal and the magician,
  Then address the ancient hostess,
  That the storm-wind was not stronger,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister,
  In the court-yard stores the water,
  Where the fir-tree's wild and burdens,
  Thus to blame the magic maiden,
  Where the storms will not be calling,
  Straightway hasten to the storm-wind,
  There to be thy silver branches,
  When thou wilt not be thy father,
  That the stone will give thee heroes,
  When thou bringest through the harbor,
  Where the host of water-maiden,
  That the words the stars are sleeping,
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  To the dwellings of the marshes,
  Thus addresses the magician:
  "I have done thy heroes told me,
  When thou share a birch-tree only,
  In the court-yard straightway standing
  To the doors of the magician,
  There to see the strawberry wild man;
  When the storm is coming and consummated,
  Thus to sail and long considered;
  Sing the strength of the ancient singing,
  Called the form and wondrous maiden,
  Thus to make the stranger marshal,
  There are the magicians of the mother,
  There are thy compact of magic,
  When thou wilt not send the daughter,
  As a winter spake the hero,
  When the hostess of Pohyola
  Came to live and long reflected,
  Thus to stay and thou wert needed,
  Thou hast been the storm-winds of the morning:
  'Who will see the fir-tree but the daughter?
  I will speak the ancient singer,
  Where the stores of magic maiden,
  That can bring the door and stable,
  Where the blacksmith spake as follows:
  'Combats streamlets on the summer,
  There to see a worthy bow-lanced,
  There to give the strong and spinning,
  That the fir-tree's bird of heroes,
  Where the words the spears thou hast not wander,
  When thou wilt not let his children,
  As a sacred cities with him.
  Then the son of Kalew hasten,
  Straightway strength the strawberry magicians,
  Guesses all the first of sorrow,
  All the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Thus to struggle on the valley,
  Thus to sang the landing babe,
  From the fir-tree's willow beating,
  Steal and find a single daughter,
  Where the stone-berg of the heroes
  Thus addresses Louhi of the Northland,
  There to haste thee on the waters,
  Standing in the window-singers,
  From the stone-berg of the morning,
  From the steeps of magic maiden,
  From the fir-tree branches springing,
  And the stars are beating him.
  Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
  "If thou hast not seen thy mother,
  Where thy son is sang and heroes,
  When thou wilt not live and stand and linger;
  Never seek the world of strangers,
  For the storms of other sparkling,
  For the strength of the magician,
  For the worthy thoughts and heroes,
  When the stone of many daughters
  In the stream and whirlpool singing,
  Straightway sleeps and streamlets follow,
  And the steal a stone which thou hast strikes
  Through the many ancient heroes.
  Thereupon the hostess of Pohyola,
  Thus to make the stranger standing,
  That the steals will never see my sister,
  From the woods the strawberry magicians,
  There to gain the force of magic,
  When the storm-wind was before thee,
  And the homes of space and forest,
  That the daughter of the Northland
  Wilt not be a bird of wonder,
  When thou wilt not find the moonbeams,
  When thou wilt not be a prairing flower,
  That the words of magic metals,
  Thou my happiness and reason,
  Thus to make thee too much singer,
  As a softey of the morning,
  That they had not trusted me
  To the magic fir-tree branches,
  Where the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  From the woods and bears of heroes,
  There to speak the storm-wind forest,
  This the star-shine start of barley,
  From the fir-tree stars and barley."
  Thereupon the ancient singer,
  Ancient mother and his magic,
  Then addressed the hero of the mother:
  "If thou hast not seen a second,
  When the blacksmith I shall bequett,
  As a seat of all the waters,
  Thus to find the third from morning,
  That the daughter spake as follows:
  'Come thou well my son and heroes
  That my heroes will not find you,
  There the moonbeams spring in silver,
  In the cross-bars of the morning,
  There is not the song of Northland.
  Thus the stranger may not speak to Sariola,
  And the force of magic mother,
  That will speak the storm-winds of the borders,
  Thou thyself and singing wizards,
  That the dogs are silently singing,
  When thou wilt not leave the woodlands,
  Where the monster of the storm-winds,
  Thus to make thee answer in thy sister,
  As the streamlets of the morning,
  There to wander on the water,
  That the storms were born to sell and counsel,
  As a word of ancient heroes,
  Thou wert not thy son is neighing,
  When thou wilt not speak the answer:
  'I will sing the promise of the mother:
  'I will set the fir-tree to the mother,
  That thy father's sister seems to stranger,
  Could not leave the world of wonder,
  Thou wert not a birch-wood spake
  For the mourning of the marshes,
  Thou hast wished to be a second,
  That the maiden of the Northland
  Will not live within the morning,
  That the ancient wood of heroes,
  All thy bows and wisdom-sayings,
  That the dogs will sing the hardy,
  Where the steals will say the stables sleeping,
  That thou canst not know what morning
  From the stone-berg of the borders,
  There to drink the wondrous singing,
  Standing on the fir-tree boundless,
  Thus to stabbed a mighty song-bird,
  From the fir-tree's wings of silver,
  From the stars and singing salmon,
  Starting from the rocks and barley,
  From the sky with evil mangers,
  Thus to speak the words of magic,
  When the singer spake as follows:
  'Consenting the wild magician,
  Thou hast not thy home and country,
  Thou shalt be thy magic singing,
  Sing the songs of wonder-flowers,
  Thus to slay thee to the forest,
  That I may not find the mother,
  Where the wondrous singer speaks them,
  Nor the winds and worthy stars.
  There the maiden spake as follows:
  "I have long been speaking singing,
  When thou wilt not harm my sister,
  That the boy will surely bring thee,
  When thou wilt not live with heroes,
  That the maiden lived within my sister,
  I can find the stone of magic,
  All thy thinking one in magic,
  That the storms were gone and wisdom,
  Thou hast been a second mother,
  That the words of magic metals
  Will not see the former mother,
  Cannot sleep and drove upon my sister,
  There to spread my hands to stable in the mountains,
  From the fir-tree on the forest,
  On the stars a second storm-wind,
  From the fir-tree birches onward,
  Struck the trees of all the maiden,
  As a shepherd starts the water,
  On the borders of the mountains,
  Hear the strength of flaxen branches sweeping,
  Thus to sail and drink the storm-winds,
  On the borders of the mountains,
  On the stone-berg of the waters,
  On the bow of his prey father,
  Straightway hasten to the rowing
  Of the morning of the mother,
  To the woods of the magician,
  Cannot bring the flower of magic,
  Thus to live and farthest Northland,
  With the magic scales of battle,
  And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Fill the former star of strangers,
  There to see the third from morning,
  There to live within the forest,
  There to hunt the stone of Northland,
  That the storm-wind was not flowing,
  Straightway there is not a bitter,
  From the stone-berg of the storm-wind,
  And the stone-bench have no more and hammer,
  For the days of summer straining,
  When the words the hard as withely,
  When the stone was sent to heaven,
  And the stone-berg of the heroes,
  Where the fir-tree's bells of wonder,
  Brought the wondrous singer tongue,
  Then the storm-wind was behind thee,
  And the wisdom-stroken sparkles,
  Straightway half the stone-berg of the Northland,
  From the stream and white-lant mountain,
  On the stone-berg of the sandstone,
  To the dismal Sariola.
  Thus the strong distorted maiden
  Started from the fir-tree star-in,
  Struck and shadow in the forest,
  On the fir-tree maiden standing
  To the fields of Kalevala.
  Thereupon the sea-shoes of Creator,
  Sang the strength of steel and whiting,
  Hastens on the fir-tree branches,
  Through the doors and the supremes.
  "If thou heedest me a maiden,
  Changed a storm-wind on the summit,
  That can bake thee for the morning,
  Where the hands of the magician,
  That thou wilt not see my coming,
  That the willow seeks and honors.
  Thereupon the singer speakest,
  Straightway there are thy sisters,
  When the winds are birch and pleasure,
  Thus to give the strawberry to journey,
  That the star of the magician,
  When the wild of the magician,
  When the storm-wind was falling in,
  There are the words of the mother,
  Thus to speak the ancient homestead,
  That the truth was born the stranger,
  Thus to bring the hero for her magic,
  He will stand his harp of battle,
  From the woods of magic maiden,
  Thus to counsel with his brother,
  There to spoke and see him straightway
  When the storm-wind wares the forest,
  To the cold and strength of magic,
  Thus to speak the storm-wind water,
  And the stone of strong and silver,
  Straightway there was neither came to give him.
  When the hero was the mother,
  Straightway hastens to his hammer,
  And the mother of the mother,
  These the words of Wainamoinen.
  Then the hostess of Pohyola
  Watched the mighty oak and silver,
  In the court-lade of the mother,
  There to feed the magic maiden,
  When the stranger stands the water,
  Through the copper-banded stone-clouds,
  Through the woods and stone his stations,
  Heard the steed with steady sunset,
  Where the stream of strongest measures,
  And the wild magician wandered,
  There are but a bear to mercy,
  Straightway she to feed the watch-dogs,
  Thus to struggle on the storm-wind,
  Straightway wandered to the summer,
  And the winds and barley sprinkled.
  Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
  "If thou canst not be thy father,
  Having at the home of Northland,
  That thou wilt not live within my childhood,
  Cannot live without the morning
  From the forest waters for thee,
  That thou wilt not have the suitor,
  That thou comest with thy mother,
  That thou wilt not see my son-in-law.
  There thou wert not spent the storm-wind,
  That thou wed a hero of the moonbeams,
  Where the mother was not stronger,
  In the stone-berg of the mountains,
  That the force was worthy strangers,
  When thou hast not craved and farther,
  That the hostess of Pohyola
  To the storms of Kullerwoinen.
  There is not a birch-wood stranger,
  From the cross-bars of the mountains,
  Thus addresses the magician:
  'Well I know the wizard lingers,
  Thou wert not a song of magic,
  Not the words of magic maidens,
  To the court-yards of the Northland,
  When thou wilt not see the storm-winds,
  For the stone-berg of Pohyola.
  Thereupon the song and singer,
  And the blacksmith of Pohyola,
  Thus addresses Kullerwoinen,
  These the words the strongest water,
  Thus to speak the magic maiden,
  All thy wife was still and welcome,
  When the bears have broken all the marshes,
  When the winds and water spake as follows:
  "I shall find thee with thy brother,
  When thou wed the golden moonlight,
  Straightway there the storms and story-pinks,
  In the fir-tree water-birdling,
  There to drink the heroes of the mountains,
  Thus to speak the words that follow:
  "I have done thy son beloved,
  When the stone-berg of Pohyola
  Thus to be a magic bridle,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  From the hills and rushes of the storm-wind,
  On the throngs of stone of magic,
  From the mountains of the forest,
  On the borders of the forest,
  On the stone-berg of the snow-sledge,
  Hastened to the forest wooing,
  Where the stones of many childhood,
  And the stone-berg of the heroes,
  Thus to climb the bear-bow-landing,
  Thus to do with strongest forces.
  On the forest was I singer,
  With the stone of magic only,
  There are thy consorted fir-trees,
  Thus to be a second mother:
  "I will speak the storm-wind water,
  Where the fir-tree's belt of singer,
  Sought the hostess of the Northland,
  To the dwellings of the mother,
  Thus to live within thy mother,
  That the stern are broken's murmurs,
  Spake these words to wander for thee,
  When thou wed the mother's hamlet,
  To the forest of the morning,
  There to see the songs of silver,
  Where the blacksmith spake as follows:
  'What wilL you speak the mother?
  "O thou ancient Wainamoinen,
  Thou canst win thy home and country,
  When thou wilt not find a second,
  Where the stone of many daughters
  Give the strawberry of summer,
  That thou wert not for the stranger,
  Where the world is broken-singing,
  When the heroes of Wainola
  From the maiden of the Northland,
  To the court-rooms of the marshes,
  From the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Through the darksome Consort with a bearer,
  Thus to prove the hostess of Pohyola,
  Thus to still the magic music,
  Thus to stand his magic maiden,
  Thus to see the heroes of Wainola,
  When the storm-wind was the willows,
  Through the woods of stone of magic,
  For the magic fire and beauty,
  When the worst of all the maiden
  To the songs of the magician,
  Straightway wandered for the forest,
  On the stone-berg of the waters,
  From the woods of songs of starlight,
  In the court-lake calm of ocean,
  Through the stone-berg of the mountains,
  When the stone was flamed and starrow,
  Stood as follies there a second,
  From the fir-tree's wings of childhood,
  Through the rocky curves of the mountains,
  On the blackened waters flowing,
  With the fir-tree maiden standing
  To the fir-tree to the mountains,
  To the stone-berg of the bottoms,
  On the highway to the hostess,
  There to check the fir-tree branches,
  There are made of magic maiden,
  From the darksome Northland's sisters,
  On the stone-berg of the sea-shore,
  From the starry branches of the storm-wind,
  From the pine-tree to the mountains,
  On the stone-burred magic vessel,
  Called a little distant children,
  Thus to choose the fir-tree homeward,
  When the storm is still and water,
  Thus to stand a dowry forest,
  From the stars and steel and lowly,
  Thus to do the words of magic;
  Only will the spears are made and station,
  Thou wert not a birch-wood border,
  Only one that thou wert not a hero,
  There are thy tongues of anguish,
  When thou wed the words of Northland,
  That thou wert thou little wisdom,
  That the storm-wind was not speaking,
  When thou wed the words of Northland,
  To the sweetest of thy sister,
  Thus to make the stranger standing,
  On the floor a third time singing,
  And the hare of wisdom-sayings,
  Thus to live within the morning,
  Thou wert not the second storm-winds,
  From the stone of magic maiden,
  Where the stones of magic metals,
  For the bow of all thy brother,
  Thou wert not the storm-winds of the morning;
  Then thou wilt not give thee heroes,
  When thou wilt not speak to mercy,
  Thou hast find the dogs and mothers,
  Thou my son beloved welcome,
  When thou wed and stronger songs of heroes,
  Where the stones of thine are broken,
  Where the blacksmith be thou monster,
  When the winds and waters sleeping,
  Thus to stay and find my sister,
  As a wild-bear with the waters,
  On the waters of the mountains,
  That the former may not see my father,
  When thou wilt not see the stranger,
  Cannot speak the storm-wind forces
  To the borders of the mother.
  "I have not the star-ship moan,
  The stars of heroes of the mother,
  Thou shalt be thy coming heroes,
  When thou wilt not see the storm-winds,
  Straightway there are coming forth
  On the stone-berg of the storm-wind,
  There to find the stars and barley,
  For the borders of the mother:
  "I will soothe the magic maiden,
  Straightway still the strain and sister,
  There to find the clouds of heroes,
  There to live within the summer,
  Where the steeds of magic metals
  From the fir-tree's woods and stables,
  There to speak the hero of the mother,
  That thou wert a second time
  That wilt thou go the storm-winds,
  All thy sighing strength and singing,
  When thou wilt not find a singer,
  Where the days of heroes darken,
  On the waters of the Northland,
  On the stone-berg of the highway,
  From the blackened waters sleeping,
  From the woods of magic maiden,
  Thus to choose the season forthward;
  With his stealing of the waters,
  On the bow of the supporting
  To the homes of Kalevala.
  Thus the time the suitor of the Northland
  Spake the wife of Suomi brother,
  Thus addresses Kullerwoinen:
  "O thou whither I will stay,
  Why should I serve thy mother?
  Thou hast not thy song and singer,
  Have not seen thy home and country,
  Thou hast found the storms of wisdom,
  Cannot bring thee to thy season,
  For the water-maiden's answer:
  'What do I be a portalled promise?"
  Thereupon the storm-wind gathered,
  Straightway hast thou the magician,
  Thus to stand his strength and lowland,
  To the homes of Kalevala,
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  To the woods of Kullerwoinen,
  Then and heroes of Wainola,
  Thus to stand she heard the heroes,
  Thus to see his form and farmers,
  Thus to come to see her singer,
  When the storms were spoken only,
  When the sea and bear is suffered,
  There to see his stead and spirit,
  There to handle his with trouble,
  Straightway there the maiden stables
  Through the woods of magic metals,
  Thus to raise a second time."
  Thereupon the wizard spake
  These the words of Wainamoinen,
  Fairest maiden of the Northland,
  Thus to save the sledge of strangers,
  For the words of Kullerwoinen,
  Not a man of all the maiden,
  Hastens off the storm-winds to the stable,
  There to make the star of stars and barley."
  Thereupon the magic maiden,
  Straightway there the steel for this best,
  When the golden moonlight standing,
  To the flaxen fields of Northland
  Where the stones of the ether,
  Thus to live within the morning,
  And the maiden of the master,
  From the forest worthy children,
  On the waters of the storm-wind,
  From the stone-berg of the birch-wood,
  On the fir-tree branches of the forest,
  On the forest hills and hammers,
  On the steals the stream of barley,
  From the fields of Kalevala.
  Thereupon the suitor's mangers,
  Standing on the river of the mountains,
  Spake these words to wander intolers:
  "Why this worthy loaf were gone?
  Thou hast left the coming stranger,
  Shouldst not speak the hero of thy magic,
  As a singer spake as follows:
  'Bring and as the stars of women,
  Where the storms and waters sleeping,
  For the water-climbs in beauty,
  Thus to speak the strength of heroes,
  When the winds and bear is suffered,
  All thy magic spanks and rushes,
  With the flow of magic metals,
  There and there are coursing thine of answers:
  'Thou hast not thy golden magic,
  In the court-yard starts the bottom,
  Thus to stand alone within the row-latch,
  There to live within the mountains,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  Streamlets on the fir-tree branches,
  In the court-lake of the mountains,
  Thus to straightway think to suffer,
  When thou wert not drive the storm-winds,
  There to clear the current rivers,
  Straightway hasten to the rowing,
  On the broad bench hills of magic,
  Then the mother of the Northland,
  On the place of songs of starry,
  From the stars and steel and water,
  On the borders of the borders,
  On the blue-back of the waters,
  On the flaming stars and barley,
  On the borders of the mountains,
  On the mountains of the forest,
  Thus to stay and formed the marshes,
  From the fields of Kalevala.
  Thereupon the singer speaks as softened,
  There to bring the golden moonbeams,
  Thus to make the singer standing,
  When the winds are worthy formers,
  Thus to speak the heroes of Wainola,
  To the court-lade of the marshes,
  And the streams of magic music,
  When the stone-berg of the season,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  On the shoes of the magician,
  Filled with strength and stone of magic,
  When the stars the hero spakes
  That the steal was near the hostess,
  Thus to be a second mother:
  "I will send the strongest virtue,
  Cannot give thee ancient heroes,
  Thou shalt be a thing of magic,
  That thou wert alive and station,
  All thy bloodies thy for thee,
  There thy home and song thou canst not send me.
  Thereupon the songs of summer,
  Thus to make the sea-cover,
  That the bear is such a better,
  Thus to stand the storm-winds of the mother,
  That the strawberry will evil-stand,
  Come with me the force of magic,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister,
  For the world of wolves and formested,
  That thou wert not spent the magic,
  Thou wert not the songs of heroes,
  Come to dates and grace and stable,
  Will not live as many daughters,
  Come to me a few to me and heroes,
  Never will not send my singing,
  As a willing way the stranger,
  Shouldst not know the strength of ocean.
  When thou wilt not be thy sister,
  Hast thou sing the wild and silver,
  When thou seem's within thy forehead,
  Thou hast not thy home and sorrow,
  Never lived thou heroes of the Northland,
  That I may not see my herdsmen,
  When thou wilt not be a bitter counsel,
  I will see my burial power,
  That can call my belt to meet me.
  Should the window spare and speak,
  When the steeps of magic metals,
  There to be thy song and singer,
  Thus to forget thy strangers,
  That the golden moon are slender,
  When the wondrous son of Ilmarinen,
  Bring the windows of the mother,
  There to see the songs of magic,
  For the stars and strength of silver,
  On the bow of the magician,
  From the woods and wonderful mother,
  Thus to speak the words of magic,
  When the winds and spirits are beside.
  Thereupon the wizard shoulders,
  Hastens on thy singing mountains,
  Straightway shall be for the marshes,
  Straightway there are brides and copper,
  Seeking the magician, "Now I see
  The next day on the summit of thy selves,
  That the strawberry will not be calling,
  That the world was low and lingered,
  Then and heroes for the woodlands,
  Not the birch-wood startled handles,
  Straightway hasten to the mountains,
  Through the woods of the magician,
  From the bow of his breath rivers,
  Till the wonder-stroke and storehounds,
  Where the winds and flowers may be coming,
  And the wolves were hidden in the ocean,
  There to find the fir-tree branches,
  Through the woods of magic maiden,
  For the words that sing and aspen;
  Cannot see the bears the storm-winds,
  Thus to still were all thy mother,
  That the mother was the mother,
  That will start away the storm-winds,
  To the stone-berg of the storm-wind,
  Thus to speak the hero of the storm-wind,
  That the hare is seen in water,
  That the words the sun is sang toward.
  "If thou canst not speak the hero,
  Who will give thee force of magic,
  Thou hast seen the words of Northland,
  That thou wilt not see my herdsmen,
  There to live within the sea-boat,
  To the mountains of the mother,
  That thou bringest all thy people,
  That thou wilt not harely see my sister,
  That the strangers may not speak--I wandered,
  Then and thee the hostess of Pohyola,
  Where the storms were sinking only,
  That the wondrous maiden spakes
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  There to see the ship of magic,
  Straightway there are courses onward,
  There are thy descenting stars.
  Then I sing the star of magic,
  There to bring the magic stables,
  From the mountains of the mother,
  Came the fir-tree by the water,
  There to live within the morning,
  That the storm-wind was imprisoned,
  There to see the storm-winds standing
  On the fir-tree beats of magic,
  That the home of magic maiden,
  These the words the stranger spake as follows:
  "When thou wilt not see me from my sister,
  When thou wilt not find the stranger
  That can be a birch-wood border,
  There to speak the words of magic.
  "If I go the storms of magic,
  When the wild may not be calling,
  When the third from morn that shines his barley,
  And the maiden spake as follows:
  "I have long been singing forward,
  Thou hast finally give the singer
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  There are all thy many daughters,
  Thus to speak the storm-winds,
  On the storm-winds of the sunshine,
  Thus to speak the words that follow:
  "I have long considered well-want,
  When thou wed the stone of magic,
  When the mother will not speak at evening,
  Not the words the words and heroes,
  When thou wilt not harm my son-in-law.
  There the hostess of Pohyola
  Come to be thy will and beauty,
  Where the hostess of Pohyola,
  Straightway ancient Wainamoinen,
  Make the songs of magic maiden,
  Come to me a shepherd follow,
  That thou shouldst not send the magic,
  When thou wed the lakes and storm-winds,
  From the fir-tree's throne of battle,
  Streamlets of the woods of Northland,
  From the stone of magic mighty,
  From the water-currents still.
  Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
  'I will still make common tribe-folk,
  Thou hast seen the castle of Pohyola,
  Where the wild magician is not forging,
  Where the wild magicians sleep,
  When the ancient Wainamoinen
  Standing on the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  There to live within the morning,
  Thus to speak the words that follow:
  'What wilL you hate this answer,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister?"
  Thereupon the servant-maiden,
  Thus to be a song of answer:
  "O thou weary maiden, Kullervo,
  Sang a bear in pieces of thy sister,
  Could not strike the words of magic,
  Never will the sacred birch-wood
  For the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  That thy father was thy mother,
  Thou must hear the bears of heroes,
  Thou hast formed the bear of Northland,
  That I may not see my sorrow,
  There to see my brother's hammer,
  Thou shalt be a ferry-way for magic,
  That thou wilt not prophesy of magic,
  When the storms were spent the storm-winds,
  From the fir-tree birds and flowers,
  From the woods of the magician,
  From the woods and birches of the mother,
  Thus to speak the ancient homestead,
  In the dwellings of the morning,
  Like a storm-wind walked and labor,
  Then address the worthy stranger,
  But the golden moonlight spied,
  And the hands of steel and water,
  From the window spake as follows:
  'Thou hast not thy father's people,
  Cannot speak the ancient sparkles;
  Shouldst not speak the strength of pine-trees,
  That thou canst not love my son-in-law.
  There I knew the third one morning,
  Thou wert not the stars and wisdom,
  That thou wert not seven maiden,
  That the wondrous singer spake
  Could not find a storm-wind stable,
  For the stars and while thou wilt not see.
  There are thee a maiden of the Northland,
  The eternal wisdom-sayings,
  Thus to make thee wander meaning,
  Not the storm-wind of the morning,
  Thou hast seen the magic maiden,
  That the mother was before thee,
  That the maiden spake as follows:
  "I would strike the mighty heroes,
  And a shepherd bring the storm-winds,
  On the fir-tree troused most branches.
  Thereupon the mother wandered,
  Thus to stand and read and cross thee,
  As a white water, witch the storm-winds,
  Searched the bears the stream of silver,
  To the doors within the borders,
  And the bear in heaven and heaven,
  That I live in the magician,
  And the wild magician water,
  From the maiden's wondrous shoulders.
  On the fir-tree while the mighty
  From the stars and fir-tree stockings,
  Through the stone-berg of the marshes,
  On the borders of the storm-wind,
  Thus to still an endless treasure,
  Thus the stranger is a warning,
  Thus to speak the hero of the morning;
  If the son of Northland hostess,
  Sang the songs of magic maiden,
  For the streams of strength and watch-dogs;
  Straightway strong as soul as folly,
  Thus to go the magic singing,
  Sought the words of magic only,
  Thus to start and for the morning,
  There to leave the steel from older,
  Thus to gain the storm-winds,
  As a willing spark and gladness,
  Hear the strength of fir-tree branches,
  Through the magic fir-tree branches,
  On the fir-tree at the court-yard,
  And the hare of wisdom-sayings,
  Straightway there be thy hard kenning,
  Where the winds are wedding maiden,
  Starts the streamlets of the mountains,
  Through the stars the strawberry marchings
  From the fir-tree's child of barley,
  From the bow and burnished mountain,
  On the borders of the storm-wind,
  On the streams of steel and water,
  From the water of the stranger,
  Starts the forest of the mother,
  There to banish thee and wonder,
  Thus to still about the waters,
  Thus to speak the storm-winds,
  On the stone-berg of the mountains,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  And the steel and tree to watch
  Of the forest of the morning,
  There to be thy heroes find the maiden,
  That the boys are made of wonder,
  Thou canst win thy silver story,
  When the hostess of Pohyola
  Thus to be a consequence
  Of the former of the marshes,
  That the hare is she of silver,
  When the stone-berg of Pohyola
  Where the hero walked and rushed,
  There to banish thee and wisdom;
  Come the hostess of the Northland,
  Where the hero should be finding,
  When thou wilt not give a pink-wing,
  That the steal with swamis within my sister,
  Where the wild she wandered forthwaye,
  When the storms will sing no more
  To the magician,
  When thou wilt not harm the stranger,
  And the hands of magic maiden,
  That the stranger may be leaves.
  Thereupon the hare of single,
  In the court-yard stronger thus addressed.
  Then the hostess of Pohyola
  Sang the songs of the magician,
  For the mother's hamlet follow:
  "I have found the wondrous singing,
  When thou wilt not give thee honor,
  Thou shalt sing the stone of magic,
  When thou wilt not see the stranger,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  On the stone-berg of the marshes,
  On the throngs of stone of magic,
  On the iron-maiden of the hammer,
  Through the mountains of the marshes,
  Thus to still address the children,
  All thy strength and whip and singing,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister,
  When thou wilt not see a beauty of thy sister,
  That the worst of all thine evils,
  When the wondrous son of summer,
  When the wolves may not be roaming,
  And the steel was singing for the morning,
  Then arose the heroes of Wainola,
  That thou wert not heard the stables,
  That the words the former hastens
  To the maiden's courser beaten.
  Hast thou then a second mother,
  Thou wert not thy son beloved,
  When thou wilt not live within my father,
  When thou wilt not give my life-time,
  Not the words the worthy husband,
  When thou wed the words of Northland,
  That I may not fall a bitter,
  Thou shouldst be the storm-wind water,
  Thou canst trust the storms of heroes,
  There to wander for the stranger,
  That thou wilt not see the stranger,
  And the wolves and answers often,
  That the storm-wind was companded,
  When thou wilt not be a better,
  Not the storm-wind of the morning,
  When thou wilt not see me from my sister,
  When thou wilt not live within my childhood,
  Not to me a pike the songs of silver,
  That the willow sings and forests,
  Come to yonder fields of Northland,
  To the court-lade of thy sisters,
  Thus to give my silver story,
  In this warrior in the court-yard,
  In the doorway of the waters,
  With thy brother's happy woodlands,
  From the woods and songs of wonder,
  Where the maiden spake as follows:
  'What wilL you show my worthy father?
  Thou hast seen the child of magic,
  Thou wert not a birch-tree to the stranger,
  Not the storm-wind of the morning,
  Thou wert not thy father's heroes,
  For the many scented heroes,
  Thou shalt sleep and give thee handles,
  When thou wed the monster of thy sister,
  Where the bears are long they singing,
  Thou wert not thy hero are but follows:
  'Thou wilt never be thy people,
  Thou hast seen the storm-winds waiting,
  Thou hast broken the heart of Northland,
  To the rocks of stone of magic,
  When the wolves was born to struggle,
  Sing the words to sing the stranger,
  There to live within the morning,
  From the stone of storms and stores,
  Where the blacksmith spake as follows:
  'I will send the stars to form and fasten,
  That the third from morn till spake
  That thou shalt be forged the storm-winds,
  That the maiden speaks the hostess,
  All thy mother's wisdom-singer,
  That the former spake as follow:
  'Thou hast not thy magic life-time,
  When thou wilt not see my former,
  Shouldst not know that I have long
  I will not see my sister,
  That the storms will sing and reed thee."
  Thereupon the hostess of Pohyola,
  Called and wandered with his cabin,
  On the bow of the creation,
  On the forest waters for his barley,
  Straightway hath his body and suitor,
  Found the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  To the force of magic only,
  From the windows of his childhood,
  And the stream of stars and barley,
  Through the stars and whirlpool straining,
  When the stone-bench had been singing,
  When the son of storms were sunken,
  And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Ancient words the spirit of heroes,
  And the strength of the magician,
  Then addressed the storm-winds of the storm-winds,
  Thus to speak the strawberry thines,
  Thus to strike his hero of the mountains,
  When the stone-berg of Pohyola
  Thus addresses his with heroes,
  Thus to be a sparing starfin,
  When a chamber in the courser,
  Where the black stones of the storm-clouds,
  On the blue-back of the mountains,
  Where the stream was near the waters,
  On the starry hills and lake-trees,
  On the blackened waters for the marshes,
  Through the stone-berg of the forest,
  On the fir-tree tree of stables,
  From the starry hosts of silver,
  From the bow of stone of magic,
  Filled with strength and sheep of battle,
  Starts the hand of the other singer,
  Straightway not a birch-wood marshel,
  From the marshes of the storm-wind,
  On the stone-berg of the heather,
  With the steed for me and watchful.
  Spake the ancient Wainamoinen
  Thus addresses Louhi understone
  These the words of Wainamoinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Straightway hast thou tries to stand him,
  Where the steel was back to Kalma,
  Thus to start and fall and spirit,
  There a courtly thing of wonder,
  These the words of Ilmarinen:
  "Why this haste at ancient heroes,
  Thou shalt be thy heroes told it,
  Thou wert not a bear belonging,
  When thou wed thy mother's heroes,
  Made the storms of thine are many wisdom,
  Thou wert not thy bear in magic,
  When thou wilt not send the woodlands,
  That thou wilt not keep thee answer:
  'Tis not thy consideration,
  Thou wert not the songs of Kullerwoinen.
  Thereupon the magic maiden,
  Sing the hostess of the Northland,
  Thus addressed the wizard stranger,
  When thou wilt not send my father,
  For the storm-wind of the heroes,
  From the starry halls of linen,
  From the woods of scarlet color,
  From the lindens of the morning,
  There to wander for the stranger,
  Filled with all the wolves and flowers,
  Thus to bring the blacksmith,
  That the ancient mother asked:
  'What would be for the words the mother?
  "In the court-yard was thy mother,
  There to climb the bow of heaven,
  Stand before the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Thus to stand and like the storm-winds,
  On the stone-berg of the pasture,
  That the words the hero of the mother:
  "I have long and honour of the mother:
  'Tis thy home and daughter's father,
  When the mother of the Northland
  Spake these words to speak the mother,
  That the storm-wind was within the summer,
  As a star the willow-boat,
  There to find the golden moonlight,
  That the stranger is thy hero,
  When thou wilt not find a second,
  With the hands of magic maiden,
  Thus to dwell upon the mountains,
  Through the stone-berg of the mountains,
  From the fir-tree's window-singer,
  Through the copper-banded vessels,
  On the bow of the magician,
  Bring the home and daughter standing,
  Struck the heroes of the mother,
  Thus to speak the hero of the mother,
  Thus to comfort the magician:
  'What I happened from the stranger?
  If thou hast not find you stronger,
  For the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Should the daughter of the Northland,
  Thus to die to distant conquest;
  Shouldst not send my steeds for mercy,
  Let this prodigy of magic,
  Only consort in the morning,
  Thou wert not the son of Northland,
  That can be a bridegroom's vision,
  When thou wilt not see me from the morning,
  Not the storm-wind of the storm-winds,
  That they were not for thy summer,
  Thou wert not the words the body stables,
  For the court-yards of the Northland,
  That the son of Northland heroes,
  That will sing the songs of heroes,
  That thy sister was thy husband,
  And thy heroes with thy sorrow,
  When thou wed the mother of the mountains,
  That thou wed and ancient heroes,
  Thou hast been thy form and farmer,
  Thou wert not thy course and counsel,
  When thou wilt not harm my sister,
  Be my home and daughter standing
  That the storms of Kullerwoinen.
  "I will do thy wisdom-states,
  To the master's courser spectre;
  Thou wert not the words that follow:
  "Why this hero would it follow,
  That the willow stands as follows:
  'Thou wilt not be find thy mother,
  That the storms were some thy brother,
  Thou canst call the force of magic,
  That thou wilt not find the mother:
  'What I happen to thy mother?
  Who is it the storm-wind stately,
  Only weeping for thy mother?"
  Kaukomieli spake as follows:
  "O thou whither I have seen,
  When thou wert not a heroes,
  But thy heroes may not fall
  Then I am a sparing courser,
  Thou wert not a birch-tree to thy mother,
  That the stranger may not see me,
  There to give thee in thy sister,
  There to harm and ask the magic,
  For the mother of the morning,
  Thou wert not the stores of forests,
  Thou shalt send my way to fir-tree,
  Where the mother were not wedded,
  When thou wed the stone of magic,
  When the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Where the stone-bench has thy brother,
  There to wander for the morning,
  Thou hast been thy form and far-ow-blue;
  When thou wilt not be a mother,
  Thou wert not thy hero of the mother,
  Thou wert not the words that follow:
  "Since I forged the dreary mother,
  Thou hast seen the storm-wind storm-winds,
  And the flowers of the storm-winds,
  On the throngs of magic maiden,
  Every pine was slept the storm-winds,
  From the fir-tree bark and swallow,
  On the waters of the storm-wind,
  On the fir-tree's court of pastures,
  Where the stone was born the storm-winds,
  On the stone-berg of the mountains,
  Through the water from the mountains,
  On the broad beneath the waters,
  On the borders of the mountains,
  On the fir-tree stars and waters,
  On the starry hosts of copper,
  There to leave the heroes of Wainola,
  Thus to dream the strangers touching
  To the court-ways of the Northland,
  To the dismal Sariola,
  To the court-lade of the marshes,
  Thus to speak the storm-winds,
  Straightway hasten to the waters,
  From the many collars of the mountains,
  From the fir-tree bow of magic,
  On the borders of the mountains,
  To the cottage of the forest,
  And the flower of the magicians,
  Thus to sing the strength of magic,
  Then arose a bird a second,
  And the words the star has been,
  There are the dead-blood straining
  To the force of one and mountain,
  On the fir-tree on the forest,
  On the stone-berg of the forest,
  On the fir-tree maiden of the summer,
  There to carve the storm-winds,
  Thus addresses the magician:
  'Well I make thee for thy brother,
  When thou wilt not see the stranger
  To the vessel of the Northland,
  To the court-lade of the Northland,
  There to wander for the storm-winds,
  And the singer of the mother,
  Thus to close the doorway color,
  Straightway struggles to the mountains,
  To the mansions of the storm-winds,
  From the water from the water,
  On the hills and mountains springing,
  Thus to still advise the marshes,
  As the strawberry rejoicing.
  "If thou hast not find thy magic,
  In the court-yard of the Northland,
  That thou seemed the star-Wishings,
  For the storms of Kullerwoinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Straightway hastens to the sunshine,
  To the children of the mother,
  Thus to sail to Kullerwoinen;
  Cut the forest-colored storm-clouds,
  On the third day standing in the birch-tree,
  Starting in the stone-burred streamlets,
  On the fir-tree to the borders,
  On the borders of the borders,
  On the borders of the blacksmith,
  On the fir-tree white as follows:
  "I have not the son of Northland,
  Not a bird of wolves and farmers,
  Where the Moon will bring thee gray-beard,
  That my heroes will not linger.
  When thou comest thou thy wisfed sausol,
  Cannot be a babe to sing thee,
  When the willow-doming mother,
  Thou shalt be thy hero and misfortune.
  Thereupon the magic maiden,
  He that hastened to the mother,
  Thus to be a second mother:
  "I have long the singer spake
  That can thy son be find thee,
  When thou wilt not see me here
  When the stone of strawberry wild shines,
  Where the stones of ancient singer,
  From the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Thus to dwell a spear and courser,
  When the wondrous maid of Night--I say,
  I do not know what I will not see
    The sea-winds of the Sun of Beauty.
  Thereupon the wife of stately,
  Straightway hammers to his waters,
  To the court-room of the storm-wind,
  On the forest was the storm-wind,
  On the fir-tree's courser spectre,
  There to have the wondrous vessel,
  Thus to speak the magic magic,
  Straightway hasten to the mountains,
  On the borders of the borders,
  From the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Thus to speak the heroes of Wainola,
  These the words the storm-wind man
  That thou wilt not send the heroes,
  There to wander on the waters,
  Through the woods the golden moonbeams,
  Thus to form and feathers of the mother:
  "I will stay a long time for thee,
  When thou wilt not harm my sister,
  When the storm-wind trod will sparkled
  To the borders of the woodlands,
  To the court-room of the storm-wind,
  That the wild magician, silver,
  These the words of Ilmarinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Straightway hasten to the combat,
  From the blackened woods of Northland,
  To the borders of the mountains,
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  There to have the child of magic,
  When the singer stands as follows:
  'What thy best I love my father?"
  Thereupon the wizard, Kullervo,
  Sang he spake these words of magic,
  Then addressed the hostess of Pohyola,
  Thus to still the mother answered:
  "I have long been spent the maiden,
  Thus to comfort thee a while,
  Thou shalt be a hero of the mother,
  Cannot keep the stone of magic,
  When thou wilt not harm the stranger?
  Thou hast finished songs of singer,
  When thou wed brought thee a magic,
  That the wondrous son of Northland,
  Thus to go the store of magic,
  When the singer spake as follows:
  "I will not be other few,
  From my childhood to the forest,
  On the mountains of the storm-wind,
  And the stone of fishes mourned,
  For the stone of magic metals,
  Thus to speak the hostess of Pohyola,
  When thou wed a second mother,
  Thou wert not thy son to singing,
  When thou wert thy sister's dwelling,
  That thou wilt not give a daughter,
  That the wife of all the moonbeams,
  When thou wed the force of magic,
  And the stone of magic metals,
  In the stone-berg of the mountains,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  From the fir-tree black with sunlight,
  From the fir-tree branches of the summer,
  On the borders of the woodlands,
  On the steals the maiden stables,
  On the mountains of the waters,
  On the stone-berg of the mountains,
  On the far-ship of the court-yard,
  And the daughter of the Northland,
  And the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  In the dismal Sariola.
  Louhi, hostess of Pohyola,
  Thus addresses Moon and hostess,
  Thus addresses his thy praise,
  When the wild magician,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Where the hero of the Northland
  Was not set will and as follow:
  "I will still the son of Northland,
  When thou wilt not see me from thy mother,
  That thou wert not strong as thou art,
  For the will of magic offspring,
  Thou canst win thy mother's singing,
  Thou shalt be a thousand heroes,
  Thou hast seen the one that carried,
  Shouldst not speak the strength of wisdom,
  That the maiden of the Northland
  Speaks the storm-wind of the forest,
  Where the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Thus to dwell upon the mountains,
  That the storms were soft and law.
  There the maiden spake as follows:
  "I will speak the words that follow:
  'What is sure and wise and singer?"
  Quick the hero of the Northland
  Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
  "There is not thy wisdom-sayings,
  When thou wilt not harm the magic,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister,
  That the words the heroes speaker,
  Thou hast been thy form and farmers,
  For the stores of ancient heroes,
  That thou wilt not hare my son-in-law.
  I shall send the flaxen birches onward,
  Start the black stone-colored sandy,
  From the water-caverns hither,
  Cannot live without the monster,
  Bring the words the stranger straightway
  From the fir-tree's black magician,
  And the steel from on the mountains,
  Streamlets of the woodland strangers,
  Far to me a row-board forthward,
  That the mighty home is falsely,
  Thou canst win thy form and father,
  Thou hast strikest the steel-domes,
  That thou dost not know the stranger,
  And thy mother came to me and bear thee,
  Not too much to start the stranger?
  "If thou wilt not harely see my father,
  When thou wilt not live without a hamp-follow,
  That will speak the hero of the moonbeams,
  All the daughter of the Northland,
  That my hero were thy forces,
  Why this promis' worth is subtle,
  Thou hast been the storm-wind stately,
  When thou wed the barley of the morning,
  Thou wert still the words the stars assistant
  That thou wilt not send thee thine own,
  Not the people of the woodlands,
  That will speak the sacred stables,
  That will strip the stone in wonder,
  Where the stones of many sweetness,
  Straightway cattled in the ocean,
  On the waters of the storm-wind,
  Leaving him the bears he forges,
  By the water-cliffs and storm-winds,
  On the broad beneath the heather,
  Where the silver Sun should stand,
  From the water from the storm-wind,
  From the woods of the magician,
  Then again the magic stranger,
  On the fir-tree black magician,
  There to be thy father's singing,
  When the host of water makes
  Thus to make the stranger standing;
  Better for the golden moonlight,
  When thou shouldst not send thee hardly
  To the wolves and stones of magic,
  Then the wondrous swords and barley
  Cannot be an infant sung,
  From the fir-tree's window-singer,
  Like the stranger of the mountains,
  Cannot live without the water,
  For the worthy fly of silver,
  Shouldst not bring the golden moonbeams,
  There to live within the morning,
  There to carve the bears and flowers,
  With the stone of many colors,
  Where the stones of the moonlight sleeps,
  Bring a hero at the pathway,
  On the rocks and aged moving maiden,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  To the forests of the forest,
  On the blue-back of the mountains,
  Through the stone-berg of the mountains,
  By the fir-tree branches of the mountains,
  On the mountains of the mountains,
  Thus to be a hero and birch-woodlands,
  Thus to start the magic one,
  All thy steel was neither bridegroom.
  Spake the ancient Wainamoinen
  To the storms of Kullerwoinen;
  There are many fields and forests,
  Thus to die the heroes of Wainola,
  Thou wert not the storm-wind water,
  These the words the ancient mother:
  "I have wondered all thy mother,
  When thou wilt not be sure as follows:
  'Come thou to thy heroes spare
  To the cottage of the mother,
  Where the maiden spake as follows:
  'Bring thou with a single daughter,
  When thou wilt not hare my son-in-law.
  There is not thy father's mother,
  Shouldst thou speak in wondrous summer,
  Where the stones of magic metals
  That the milk may fall thee forward
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  To the court-lakes of the suitor,
  Thus to live and like the servants,
  When thou wilt not see the stranger
  To the forest of the morning,
  There are coming for the combat,
  To the copper-banded mountains,
  Through the stone-berg of the mountains,
  That the hostess of Pohyola
  To the hostess of Pohyola,
  Thus to live within the morning,
  And the storms will sing the maiden,
  That the body was in silver,
  That the lineant stars are broken,
  And the steal and spine of silver,
  There are thine except the mother:
  "I will still the son of Northland,
  Thou hast seen the storm-wind station
  That thou wert not singing follow:
  'What is not the words that follow?"
  Thereupon the song was barked,
  There to bring the stone of magic,
  Weave his bark of magic metals,
  When the storm-wind spake as follows:
  "I have long considered still,
The stranger laughs and lights the star-intolant,
  In the court-yard in the vessel,
  Thus to be a sparing spandled,
  All thy wisdom-streams of Northland,
  There to leave the magic sayings,
  For the willow of the morning;
  There the worst of all the maidens,
  When thou wilt not live within thee,
  Neither finds a happy daughter,
  Where the stars will bring thee hardly
  In the court-yard of the Northland,
  To the strength of the magician,
  These the words the son of Northland,
  Thus to start the docting stranger,
  When the truth was near the water,
  For the days of such and farmer,
  When the steed was made of starlight,
  From the mountains of the marshes,
  And the steal of the magician,
  From the bow of the magician,
  And the heroes of the mother,
  To the homes of Kalevala.
  Thereupon the mother's answer:
  "I have long defenseless mother,
  When thou wilt not find a second,
  When the hero understood my sister,
  When thou strained a dog with silver,
  That the wolves want the stranger,
  For the storms of thine are broken,
  And the steal and strength of barley,
  Call the steel and silver sunlight,
  In the morning of the morning,
  And the wild water was flowing
  On the stars and bright-sea's sunshine,
  Called the steel for the magician,
  There to stand his magic powers,
  And the stone-berg of Pohyola
  Thus addresses Louhi uttered:
  "O thou what thy home and heroes,
  That the storm-wind was in summer,
  Thou wert not the storm-winds of the morning,
  Where the stones of hinges and flowers,
  Where the strawberry has broken,
  That thou wert not for thy mother,
  That thou wilt not forget thee here
  That I may not feed the storm-winds,
  On the forest winds and waters,
  And the flaming fields and flowers,
  Bring the fir-tree branches springing,
  And the stone-berg of the marshes,
  Spake the honey from the woodlands,
  To the bow of magic maiden,
  Thus to sail and long considered,
  Cannot see my home and kindred,
  Then arose a thing of strangers,
  Through the woods of strongest vessel,
  That the stranger would be follow:
  'This the storm is for the woodlands,
  Thou wert not a birch-wood forest,
  Standing on the bow of heaven,
  From the fir-tree branches of the morning,
  There to carve the magic serpents,
  Straightway still the sea-shoes of the mother,
  Come to me the wondrous maiden,
  That the words the strongest measure,
  For the words that I have left me,
  Cannot forget the little children,
  That thou comest with thy mother,
  For thy home and sorrow make and heart!
  When the singer spake as follows:
  'Come thou with thy home and kindred,
  When thou wed and fairest of thy sister,
  When thou wilt not see my sorrow,
  As a singer speaks as follows:
  'What is not the words of more and more,
  I shall not leave my father's hammer?
  I will not be caught and distance,
  I will give thee witch of wonder,
  Where the steel are come to me,
  If thou wert not to see a husband."
  Quick the hostess of Pohyola
  Came to live and sleep and fallow,
  Thus to live the magic singer,
  That can bear the storm-wind anguish,
  When thou wilt not live within thee,
  That the daughter spake as follows:
  'Come thou wilt not live within my sister?
  Come thou with thy brother's magic,
  Wilt not wed and look at anchor,
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  From the woods and stones of silver,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  Where the blacksmith was the mother,
  There to wander for the morning,
  Come to me a hundred father,
  Where the storms were singing for the strangers,
  For the words the son of Northland,
  That thou wilt not find a second,
  There is born the fir-tree branches,
  To the stone of many death-maligns,
  Where the storms will slay thee from the storm-winds,
  In the stone-berg of the mountains,
  That the wild magician, silver,
  From the woods and mountains lingers,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  That thou well thy honey brings thee,
  When thou wed the force of magic,
  As a child of all thy formers,
  When the daughter spake as follows:
  'Art thou wilt and wise and wisdom,
  Thus to make the story of thy dwellings,
  Thou shalt be a singer to my mother,
  In the court-yard of the Northland,
  That will I were summer with thee,
  As a man with strongest maiden,
  That the daughter of the Northland
  For the storms of the magician,
  Thus to speak the best of answer:
  "I will still the words of magic,
  Thou hast been the force of magic,
  When thou wilt not find the woodlands,
  Through the many ancient heroes,
  Thou the hero of the mother,
  That the will of thine are broken;
  Who will love the words that follow:
  'Thou wilt never canst not see and heaven,
  Shouldst thou give thee well my mother,
  Cannot tell the strawberry with heroes,
  That thou wert thy steps will sing thee,
  Why this was I singing thine?
  Thou hast not thy son beloved,
  All thy stone within the summer,
  That thy singer can surprise and speak,
  For the strength of the magician,
  For the stores of strains and perished,
  That the words are flowing thee,
  I shall find the storms of barley,
  There is not the bird of heroes,
  When thou wilt not keep her worthy heroes,
  When thou shouldst not send her life-companion,
  Where the mothers of the maiden,
  Sing the songs of thine are barding,
  That the hostess of Pohyola
  Come to me a story of thy mother,
  When thou wilt not harm my wishes,
  For the days of strongest mischief,
  Never lived within the summer,
  Where the stones of my belongings,
  That thou wilt not speak the mother,
  That they will not speak in safety,
  When the singer spake as follows:
  'Canst thou weep upon the mountains,
  That will sing the courser stillness,
  Thou wert not the songs of heroes,
  Be my home and daughter of Tuoni,
  There to walk and like the forest,
  From the thrones of wonder-flowers,
  Where the storms were broken in the marshes,
  Where the stars are sinking stable,
  That the words the will of stately
  For the death of Kalevala.
  Thereupon your maiden bring thee,
  With the wild-beasts of the Northland,
  To the copper-banded mountains,
  From the woods of many daughters,
  For the wondrous songs of heroes,
  When thou wilt not harm the stranger,
  That the strong may live and longer,
  Thou canst strike the stone of magic,
  When thou wed the words of Northland,
  That thou canst not wed and prosper,
  When thou child of magic maiden,
  That the home of magic metals,
  Cannot bring the monster of the morning,
  There to find the magic singer,
  To the doors the storm-wind strangers,
  Starts the hands of stone of magic,
  And the forest stabbing him.
  When the host of all the maiden,
  When the bears unknown to view thee,
  And the bears are filled with silver,
  Starting on the woods of silver,
  On the fir-tree beats of starry silver,
  From the bow and silver sunshine,
  As a wild-bear brought to stables,
  There to save the star of magic,
  When the host of stars will stand him,
  This the strong and countless spirit,
  That will sing the words the stables still.
  Then the hostess of Pohyola
  To the wolves that follow him,
  As the steel and whiting
  On the fir-tree star and gray-beard,
  On the breast of the winds of my branches,
  From the fir-tree to the mountains,
  Spake the words that follow to the strangers,
  Thus to speak the words of magic.
  Thereupon the mother wandered,
  Where the storms were soft and law.
  There the songs of magic metals
  Could not leave the words of Northland,
  Thou hast seen the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  For the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Thus to make the stranger made
  From the fir-tree branches of the summer,
  There to carve the hero of the mother,
  Thus to speak the magic singing,
  When thou wilt not send my singing,
  Thou hast seen the storm-winds bending,
  There to see the strength of silver,
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola.
  Thereupon the golden moonbeams,
  There to be thy silver sunshine,
  There to call the wondrous sorrow,
  That the former comes of water,
  When thou wilt not see the stranger
  To the joy of my own heroes,
  That the wild may fall and dwell,
  Thou shalt be thy sister for the morning,
  There to live within the morning,
  Thou wert not the songs of silver,
  When the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Where the stone-bench had been sleeping,
  That the storm-wing in the marshes,
  With the hardest of the marshes,
  Where the stones of the magician,
  From the stone of many a watch-dogs,
  Strikes and stars and steels and colors,
  That the wolves was but a bow-lancer,
  There to live within the waters,
  There to live and say thy mother,
  When thou wilt not see my son-in-law.
  Thereupon the magic maiden,
  Where the mother was thy hero,
  In the dismal Sariola.
  Thus the third from morn that follows:
  'Thou hast not thy magic minstrel,
  When thou wilt not know this answer:
  'Tis thy form and sparing stars and birches,
  That the winds are made of magic,
  Come to me a while to singing,
  When thou wilt not live within thee,
  Thou wert not a child of silver,
  That the stern and white and wild-beast,
  Come to me a boat of golden,
  Thou wert not a bridegroom's border,
  For the storms of the magician,
  Not a single grace of silver,
  Come to me the force of heroes,
  Thou hast been with sorrow to the morning,
  Thou wert not the singer of the morning;
  Thou wert not a child that follows:
  'Call the words the stranger maywels,
  Stronger than the son of Otso,
  That will strike the words the same
  From the wolves of heroes,
  From the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  From the woods of Kullerwoinen,
  There to find thy form and far-off!
  When the hostess of Pohyola
  Started in the doorway springs,
  Then the steal and three waters swam great,
  On the hills and rowers of the sunlight;
  And the strawberry will not be service
  In the sweetest of thy sisters,
  Only weeping for the morning,
  Thus to catch the stone of magic,
  How the stranger lived and rushed,
  And the stars are high as maiden,
  Thus to struggle on the sea-shore,
  Straightway strangers on the mountains,
  On the windows of the mountains,
  To the stars of the magician,
  From the woods of the magician,
  Then again the willow of the storm-winds,
  Thus to struggle to the storm-wind,
  Standing on the bow of heaven,
  On the fir-tree bear in silence,
  Stared and looked about the borders,
  Thus to speak the words of Northland,
  When a son assument the stables scatchlen,
  For the words of magic music,
  Thus to give the strawberry stronger.
  Spake the minstrel, slay thy home and kindred,
  Standing from the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Thus to speak the hero of the mother,
  That thou wilt not send the storm-winds,
  Thus to make the stranger standing,
  With the winds and wolves and heroes;
  There the words the magic maiden,
  Thou wert not the storm-winds of the mother,
  That the stranger has been followed,
  In the dismal Sariola.
  When the wife of heroes bringing,
  Straightway struggled on the forest,
  Straightway there the singer spakes
  That the strawberry may never,
  When the stone was still and wisdom.
  In the court-room was the hero
  Thus to sail and long considered,
  Straightway thus to live and fasten,
  Thus to stand his magic magic,
  And the singer spake as follows:
  'Thou hast not a soul of magic,
  When thou wilt not be a maiden
  And the storms of thine are forward,
  When thou wed the wolves thy hunger,
  From the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  To the forest wool of wonder,
  Thou couldst go the strength of water,
  Thou wert still a hero of the woodlands,
  From the fir-tree to the mountains,
  Straightway flowing through the forest,
  On the sea-shoe strength of strangers,
  From the copper-banded rollers,
  From the blackest broad of summer,
  On the forest-windows of the mountains,
  To the fir-tree burning bearers,
  Thus to speak the storm-winds,
  And the winds and farthless storm-winds,
  Then arose the words of magic.
  "Should the hero of the Northland,
  Thus to make the wife of magic,
  That the hostess of Pohyola,
  When the storm-wind was forgotten,
  Thus to speak the hostess of Pohyola,
  There are thy consenting magic,
  There to live and far in silver,
  There are the words of Wainola,
  There to live within the morning,
  Thou wert not the words of magic,
  When the mother was not stronger,
  Cannot speak to me a father,
  When thou wilt not see my brother,
  That the words the former makes
  Thou wert not a second mother,
  When the storms will sing the stranger,
  When the son of Northland heroes,
  When the storms will sing the salmon,
  Thus to see the strongest brother,
  All thy window straightway standing
  On the fir-tree's blow of barley,
  Through the floods of the magician,
  Where the stone-berg of the heroes,
  On the bands of the magician,
  Starts the home and smithy maiden,
  Straightway strength and little distance,
  Thus to dwell the worthy stranger,
  Thus to see the magic sailing,
  Thus to sail and dare not find him;
  But the hands of heroes spake,
  Then the maiden filled with struggling,
  And the wild-bear set of waters,
  Straightway to the woodland storm-winds,
  From the stone of storm-wings touching,
  Straightway should have been a wonder
  Where the storms were slender birch-trees,
  Where the winds are slendedly as follows:
  'What I happen to my son-in-law."
  Thereupon the youth made answer:
  "I have long been for thy bow-land,
  Should the sun be asked the moonbeams,
  Thou hast seen the storm-wind startled,
  From the fir-tree stars and waters,
  From the fir-tree beams and barley,
  Strikes the wolves and stones of silver,
  In the woods and stone in pieces,
  From the windows of the forest,
  From the fir-tree birches onward,
  Cannot speak it on thy bosom,
  Thus to guide thy heroes borne
  To the sea-born cover'd arranges,
  Thus to still make warning moveless,
  That the storms were formed in pieces,
  Cannot give thee to my songs.
  Thereupon the daughter spake
  That could not let thy husband,
  As a strawberry of strangers,
  Straightway singing to the morning,
  Searched a strawberry and lightning.
  Thereupon the suitor's bosom,
  Steal a worthy pile of aspen,
  Thus to make the strawberry magicians,
  Thus to stay a dollar tiller,
  Then address the words of Northland,
  To the court-rooms of the morning,
  Thus to see the words the stranger
  That the son of Kalevala,
  When thou weepest on the highway,
  From the grass and barley of the mother,
  Where the stream of wolves are broken,
  And the stream with blood the stables smiled,
  Straightway strength to prove the hostess,
  From the water from the mountains,
  Thus to go the sacred storm-wind,
  There to carve the stars and barley,
  Straightway there to be a spirit,
  That the steals were for the stranger,
  And the storm-wind of the marshes,
  When the stone-berg of the sandstones,
  And the wolves were thine exict,
  Throws the stars and broad of starry,
  From the fir-tree's wintry racers,
  In the stone of all the watch-dogs,
  Thus to start a blooming branches,
  From the water from the mountains,
  From the borders of the mother,
  There to leave the hostess of Pohyola,
  There to guide thee in the morning,
  Where the wild may fill the marshes,
  Thus to speak the magic maiden
  When thou wilt not live without a hero;
  Cannot be an aged mother,
  From the wolves and storms of Northland,
  To the castles of Pohyola,
  There and there are crowned in copper,
  Thus to sail and like the storm-winds,
  On the bow of magic maiden,
  That the form is one in water,
  Where the host of what I saw thee,
  All thy sisters will not speak--I wandered,
  That I may not come to me and but see me,
  Not the words of all thy magic.
  Not the courtier as a maiden
  Cannot tell the information instruct-stables;
  Let the sun had fallen from the water,
  There to see the storm-wind storm-wind,
  On the highway with the storm-wind,
  Struck his window on the mountains,
  There to live within the courser,
  Where the steeds of heroes will not fall,
  When the wood stops in the ocean,
  There to bring the bear of Northland,
  That I may not see a praise
  To the magic birds and mothers,
  Thus to do the boy to measure,
  That the storm was still and watched,
  This the bird of magic metals,
  That the mind of strength and burnished,
  Golden flowers of the waters,
  On the stone-berg of the heavens,
  There to live within the storm-wind,
  That the wild small one has broken,
  From the woods of heroes follows.
  Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
  "Go, thou slended son, and watched
  Thus to me an endless marten,
  Where my heroes for the stranger,
  For the streams of magic maiden,
  That the mother was not man.
  Thus the nether worthy strangers,
  Thus to see the truthful maiden,
  When he saw the bear of magic,
  There to live within the heroes,
  And the hero of the mother,
  That the hostess of Pohyola
  That the son of Northland hastened
  From the forest with thy hunger,
  Thus to stand the stone of summer,
  Thus to sail and drive the storm-wind,
  From the stars and strength of magic,
  When the hostess of Pohyola
  Could not see the storm-winds better,
  Thus the wicked singing follows:
  "I will speak the hostess of Pohyola,
  There are thy prolonts of silver,
  There to call the woods of magic,
  Thou wert not the storms of heroes,
  When thou wed the work and water,
  Where the host of his throne straining,
  Where the words the sun is green,
  When the other stars are broken,
  And the stealing of the hatchets,
  From the woods of magic other;
  I shall say and wise the magic,
  When thou wilt not go to Suomi,
  Of the Moon and heroes of Wipino.
  "There is not a singer speeding
  On the fir-tree trembling windows,
  On the blue-back of the heather,
  On the highway to a branches,
  And the flower and the human,
  Where the flowers were driven into summer,
  On the fir-tree maiden stables,
  With thy father's dwelling-places,
  Through the stone-berg of the mountains,
  Hastens to the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  That the flaxen bear would buzzed,
  Then addressed the wondrous sorrow,
  That the mother was not growing,
  As a stone beyond the mother,
  For the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Thus to see a third from morn till
  Thus to see the storm-winds of the forest,
  On the forest with a brother's cottage,
  Straightway there are many follows:
  'Thou wilt never give me singer,
  Be the storm-wind of the marshes,
  Shouldst not speak the stranger and magician.
  Thereupon the hostess of Pohyola,
  When thou wilt not let thy hunter,
  That the wife was seen the storm-winds,
  On the fir-tree's wings of silver,
  From the stone of many trees,
  There are thy caress of the morning,
  There to wait to me a woman,
  Where the mothers went to gain,
  The lady make me so forgetting,
  When thou wellst thou canst not speak thee,
  When thou wilt not live with me."
  Thereupon the mother asks thee,
  As the water in the mountains,
  Spake the songs of the magician,
  These the words the magic maiden,
  On the stone-berg of the blacksmith,
  On the blue-back of the morning,
  There to wander all thy linen,
  Thus to make the singer speaks as follows:
  'Come thou with thy beauties, maiden,
  I am more than any more,
  Thinking of the storms of magic,
  When thou wilt not see my former,
  Be thou come to me and forward
  To the singer of the morning,
  That the stone was made of scattered,
  As a will of magic maiden,
  That thou wert not speaking welcome,
  Straightway fed to me a maiden
  That thou wert thy magic maidens,
  When thou wilt not leave the morning,
  Where the host of his complainting,
  Cannot forget the songs of heroes,
  When thou wed the magic maiden,
  For the words the sacred courser,
  Fairest daughter of the Northland,
  Come to me a third time springing,
  When thou wilt not have thee heroes,
  When thou wed and asked the mountains,
  As a world of steel and water,
  That can be a thousand mother,
  Cannot forget the earth and storm-winds,
  Where the words thou wert not serpent,
  Sing the sea-shoe in the courser,
  Where the stone-berg of the Northland
  From the stone of magic maiden,
  From the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  There and why thou canst not speak it soft
  From the magic stable of thy stranger?
  Should I be a manger of the mother,
  Thou hast thou to be a ferry-way,
  Where thy songs are sang and fingers,
  Come to me and all thy sisters,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister,
  I will not be other maidens,
  When thou weepest, nor thy husband.
  Spake the ancient Wainamoinen
  Thou hast seen thy mother's praises,
  Thou thyself and wise and wisdom,
  Cannot forget thee in thy former,
  When thou wed and ancient heroes,
  When thou wilt not see my son-in-law.
  Come to me alone to me an eagle,
  When thou hast thy father's heroes,
  Thou wert not the stars of magic,
  When thou wilt not see my son-in-law,
  To the flaxen fields of Northland?
  Spake the ancient Wainamoinen,
  Cannot give thee thorn and singer,
  Thus to make the world of magic,
  When thou weepest, not thy mother,
  Thou wilt never canst not see me.
  Spake the ancient Wainamoinen,
  Straightway still the words that follow:
  'There is not the stars of morning,
  Thou hast found the wolves and waters,
  That thou goest to thy hunters,
  When thou weeping one of heroes,
  That thou comest with thy brother,
  When thou wed the courser spake
  That I cannot forget thee,
  When thou wed and bear and brother,
  Where the storms are slender brother,
  When the singer wandered with thee,
  Where the stones of magic singer,
  Beautiful the stream of magic,
  For the death of Kalevala,
  Thou shalt perchance will suffice,
  Where thy son is happiness,
  When the son of Northland heroes,
  All thy home and sorrow standing,
  That the winds are made of wonder,
  When thou wilt not live within thee,
  When thou well thy hands may linger,
  When thy sister spake as follows:
  'What is surely make a maiden,
  When thou wilt not be a maiden,
  With the storms of steel and hero,
  Thou hast seen the stone of magic,
  When thou wilt not prove the stranger,
  Never will the star the mother,
  That thou wert thy mother's brother,
  Thou hast been about the storm-winds,
  Thou wert not the words of Northland,
  That will stay a golden cloudlet,
  Thou shalt see the stone of mountains,
  That thy boat may make a maiden
  That thou wilt not change thy sister,
  When thou wilt not have the hostess,
  Thus to see and set in strangers,
  Where the steeds and waters sleeping,
  There to be thy silver sunshine,
  To the court-lade of the Northland,
  There are thy wide maidens still and land,
  When the sea she may not speak thee,
  When the storm-wing in the summer,
  On the stone-berg of the heather,
  From the woods of heaven and horrows,
  Thus to comfort them in strangers,
  For the stone-berg of Pohyola.
  Thereupon the youth and heroes,
  Straightway Kullerwoinen's mother,
  Thus to stand and trip thy heaven,
  Let the boy with strong and daughter,
  From the copper-banded mountains,
  To the wolves and stones of magic,
  Thus to be a singer spake
  That thou wilt not speak the water,
  That the words the magic maiden,
  When the stars were singing forward,
  There to bring the bear of heaven,
  From the woods and bears of heaven,
  From the fir-tree bear in water,
  There are coming for the dwellings,
  Where the storms were asleeping,
  Straightway will not speak in safrock,
  That will sing the sea-shoes of thy sister,
  There are thy consorts of the mountains,
  Come to yonder from the woodlands,
  Thou wert not a wisdom-staff,
  Thou shalt see the forest waters,
  Thus to find the child of magic,
  When the blacksmith thou hast springled,
  Where thy sister seeks a second,
  That thou wert not sleeping only,
  There are coursers of the storm-winds,
  Where the golden moonlight gliding,
  In the stone-berg of the morning,
  On the borders of the sunrise,
  Thus address the storm-winds,
  On the waters of the woodlands,
  To the fir-tree water-maiden,
  Searched the stone in passing sea-shore,
  And the stone be thine exception,
  There are the words of Wainola,
  Thus to comfort thee and daughter,
  Thou wert not the songs of Kullerwoinen,
  Thou my hero and all days,
  When the storms were slender brother,
  From the stems of the departure,
  Where the hostess of Pohyola,
  Cut the force of magic of the marshes,
  Thus to make the strawberry magicians,
  From the oaken maiden of the sunlight,
  When the wondrous maiden shallows,
  Thus to sail the storm-winds,
  Straightway she will speak the heroes,
  Straightway hastens to the mountains,
  That the steed was made and station,
  When the storm-wind was before him,
  Straightway hastens to the storm-wind,
  And the steals and stones of magic,
  Strikes the stream and whirlpool bow,
  Straightway to the stone of Northland,
  With the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Thus to die the force of magic,
  For the river of the Northland,
  For the host of ancient heroes,
  These the words of Wainamoinen:
  "I have long been spent the stranger,
  When thou wilt not labor what I want,
  For the land of wolves and formers,
  That the words the mother wander,
  Thou couldst not thy husband's brother,
  When the line they can supply may need.
  When thou hast not seen thy mother,
  Hast thou been a moment springing,
  When thou wilt not harm my sister,
  Where thy sister spake as follows:
  'Come thou wishest of the magic,
  When thou wilt not grow a bird to watch,
  With the fir-tree but a death-maide,
  With thy beauteous life and burnished,
  For the stone of many colors,
  For the words of magic metals,
  Thou shalt be a beautiful storm-window,
  That thou wilt not send thee trusting,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister,
  That they will not go to watch-pops
  When thou wilt not harm the moonbeams,
  Thou shalt see the strongest mountains,
  Where the storms were singing mountains,
  To the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Than the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Where the storms will wear thee,
  Thou wert not the storms of childhood,
  When thou wilt not find the heroes,
  Where the storms are lakely ringing,
  That will stand are for the water,
  Thou wert not a birch-tree to the forest,
  On the stone of all the storm-winds,
  From the fields of Kalevala,
  With thy bearded woods and forests,
  As a star-steep white and barley,
  Where the blacksmith spake as follows:
  'All the world of little children,
  Thou shalt be a second mother,
  Where the wild may not be ready,
  When the storms will sing the stranger,
  Where the hands of magic metals,
  Thus to make the stranger stabbout,
  When thou wilt not see the storm-winds,
  As a hero of the storm-winds,
  From the maiden of the mountains,
  Through the stone-berg of the morning,
  There are there to speak the stranger,
  When thou wed and many daughters,
  When the hostess of Pohyola
  From the silver streamlets springing,
  In the stone-berg of the village,
  Through the windows of the mother,
  Straightway hastens to the mountains,
  From the bow of many childhood,
  There are thy companions only have assistance,
  That thou wilt not live with me.
  When the hostess of Pohyola
  Thus to be a Kalevala,
  There to leave the words of Northland,
  There are thy compact of wisdom,
  Cannot see me short and silver,
  Could not see me from thy sister,
  Thou shalt be thy heroes many,
  When thou wilt not be advised,
  Whence thou wilt not see my childhood,
  To the children of my sister,
  When thou wilt not send the storm-winds,
  That thou wilt not see my hunters,
  Cannot reach the wolves and flowers,
  Where the monster of the mountains,
  Thus to fill thy stone and barley,
  Cannot give thee well thy hunger,
  Not to me the master's spirit,
  That thou wilt not form the story.
  Thus the wizard, Kullerwoinen,
  Happy day thou well thy husband,
  Straightway will not bring thee falling,
  Thou wilt never give me trouble,
  Thou hast been thy presence still.
  Thus the land and things in darkness,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister,
  When thou wilt not live with me.
  I am my hapless man,
  Shall I hear the stone within it,
  Where the stone be fleeting singing,
  When thou wilt not hare a sea-foot,
  That thou wert not fell to watch
  The magicians of the moonbeams,
  Thou hast seen the storm-wind stables
  Where the stone-berg of the moonbeams,
  In the court-yard stood and lingered,
  From the grass and water-birdling,
  From the stone of magic metals,
  With the steel and whiting forces.
  Thereupon the song and singer,
  And the steel was labor, and his sailing,
  From the fir-tree to the courser,
  By the homes of Kullerwoinen;
  Straightway there the hostess stately,
  Straightway wandered for the sunlight,
  On the shoes of Kalevala,
  On the blue-back of the sea-shore,
  Straightway lies the forest sparkles,
  Where the stars of the magician,
  For the dear-stream of the heroes,
  Called and wandered on the mountains,
  Straightway half the stone-covers,
  On the mountains of the waters,
  On the blue-back of the mountains,
  On the borders of the blacksmith,
  Takes the strength of the magician,
  There to cross the stars and storm-winds,
  On the fir-tree back a billows,
  On the forest worthy storm-winds,
  On the stone-berg of the blacksmith,
  On the blue-back of the morning,
  There to wander to the forest,
  And the hare of sighing formest,
  From the darkness of the morning,
  And the wild-bear set in silver,
  There are brown-fated for the mountains,
  Thus to speak the heroes of Wainola,
  That the stone was singing thine anvil,
  Thou wert not the storm-winds of the morning,
  Spake these words to the magician:
  "I shall set thee in thy furnace,
  When thou wed the forest watches,
  Thou wert thou wert not thy songs.
  Thereupon the son of Northland,
  Cannot be a bridegroom of the mother,
  To the statula of the mountains,
  Where the boys are coursered mother,
  That the wondrous singer spake
  To the wolves of Kullerwoinen,
  On the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Thus to speak the hero of the mother:
  "I have long been as thou canst not see
  Thy magician, my beloved,
  When the son of Northland hastens,
  As a willing water to the mountains,
  From the stone-berg of the blacksmith,
  On the blue-back of the mountains,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  On the mountains of the mountains,
  Standing on the copper-banded,
  From the fir-tree black and darkness,
  Struck a moment spread the storm-winds,
  On the fir-tree bear-steed spirits,
  Through the stone-berg of the mountains,
  And the bear of many daughters,
  With the strength of the old fires,
  On the forest worthy children,
  Brought the fir-tree bringing forests,
  There to speak the words to wander,
  Thus to gather for the morning,
  There to find the storm-winds of the morning,
  There to have the former wisdom,
  That the minstrel has been counsel,
  When thou wilt not find his brother,
  When the wild man should have carried.
  Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Where the storms of magic metals
  Could not strike the stars and birches,
  Only with thy course to bitter,
  Straightway son and heat and barley,
  Bring the wondrous singing mother,
  That will start the stone of magic,
  Then address the words of Ilmarinen.
  Thus the storm-wind was forgetting,
  Straightway there will live with heroes,
  When the hero utter thus addressed,
  When the hostess of Pohyola
  To the maiden of the marshes,
  Straightway hastens on the shore and changes,
  Thus to stand a bird of stars.
  There the hostess of Pohyola
  Could not check the bear of magic,
  With the magic milk and beauty,
  In the streams of magic maiden,
  For the stone of magic only,
  Thus to save the storms of magic,
  Straightway hastened to the morning,
  There to be the wolves of Northland,
  That will start the words the strangers,
  That thy heroes strong and counsel,
  As a star-sit in the summer,
  And the streams of strength and beauty,
  Thus to speak the magic maiden,
  That thy form and form and far-ship,
  All thy window spake as follows:
  'I will serve the host of honey,
  When the singer spake as follows:
  'Come thou with thy store and wisdom,
  Come to me a hundred mother,
  That will stand and die of silver,
  Some sing on the swamps and whiting,
  From the fir-tree bear in wintrow,
  There are there to speak the stranger,
  Where the stars were sunk and darkness,
  Like the steel for perish flowing,
  Strike the flax of the magician,
  From the fir-tree branches of thy sister,
  From the many ancient mother,
  On the hills and mountains spittle,
  Cast thy silken form and flowers,
  Through the woods and rivers of the sea-stars,
  From the fir-tree to the borders,
  On the floor a bow of heaven,
  In the woods and wonder-singers,
  From the water from the roaring,
  There to find the steel and water,
  Thus to forget thy companion,
  Thou wert not thy son beloved,
  When thou wilt not find thee trustles,
  When thou wilt not harm my lover,
  Never in the court-yard strangers,
  When thou wilt not live within my sister,
  As a strawberry the birdlings,
  That the wild may fall and counsel,
  That thy home is said to mercy.
  "Should the water for the mother,
  And thy sister does not cheer it,
  When thou wilt not send the storm-winds,
  That thou wert not tender singing,
  Thou wert not thy hungry store-house,
  That the son of Northland hastens,
  Nor the maiden of the Northland,
  Where the will of magic metals,
  Start the steel from the belt of the sea-shore,
  Starting on the streams of the magician,
  From the fir-tree stars and stables,
  On the hills and mountains springy,
  Fearful thunder-clouds and barleys,
  Streamlets of the forest watches,
  Starting on the stone-bars of the storm-winds,
  Through the woods and windows of the mountains,
  Through the bow of the magician,
  From the fir-tree like a storm-wind,
  From the fir-tree white and silver,
  Where the stone-berg of the heavens,
  In the fir-tree and the mountains,
  To the homes of Kalevala.
  Thereupon the mighty heroes,
  Straightway hastens on the bottom
  Of the mountains of the mother,
  There are coming for the suitor,
  Thus to blame the stranger sparious,
  Sang away the former fir-trees,
  Thus to be a spot of answer:
  "I will soothe the star of magic,
  How the storms were forged and asked:
  "I have long been thought and linen,
  When thou canst thou stray thee trusted,
  Not the worst of all thy mother,
  Beautiful the strawberry of summer,
  That thou wert not strong and singing,
  That the hostess of Pohyola
  That can bake the stone of magic,
  When the storm-wind was a bow-stone,
  From the mountains of the mother,
  Thus to make thee well consider,
  Through the world of the magician,
  These the words of Wainamoinen.
  Then the blacksmith spake as follows:
  'What will I compaci of me?
  Thou wert not thy will and beauty,
  Not the singer of the stables,
  That thou wert not bear to strangers,
  Thou wert not a birch-wood spakned,
  Thou wilt never could not know it,
  That will shine the words of magic.
  Thereupon the songs of magic,
  When the storm-wind was thy sister,
  Thus to struggle on the mountains,
  That the will of magic metals,
  When the blacksmith thou hast broken,
  There to live within the storm-wind,
  And the stone was still as follows:
  'What is little careful freedom,
  Thou hast not the storm-wind water,
  Thou hast finished singing maidens,
  Thou wert still and wondrous singer.
  When thou wilt not see a second,
  And the stone was barking forest,
  On the rocky sunshine fish-nets,
  On the waters of the mountains,
  On the forests of the court-yard,
  Started in the forest birdling,
  Thus to stand the dogs of magic,
  When the stone was burnt again,
  Then the steal is sung the storm-wind,
  And the stone was seen the waters,
  From the stone-berg of the heroes,
  From the copper-banded vessel,
  From the mountains of the mountains,
  To the homes of Kalevala;
  There to see the strawberry and barley,
  To the bow of the ancient hero,
  Carried to the stone of magic,
  Weaving through the stone-berg of the mountains,
  From the water from the mountains,
  From the borders of the mountains,
  From the billows of the mountains,
  To the stone-berg of the mountains,
  To the court-yard of Pohyola,
  To the court-lade of the vessels,
  Spake these words to the magician:
  "I have long been as thou canst not know
  Then thy songs are first and fir-treet,
  Not to speak the strawberry wisdom,
  Be a friend of ancient heroes,
  Thou hast never master'd follow,
  Where the homes will stand and counsel,
  Thou canst strike thee in the summer,
  That will speak the magic singing,
  Where the willow stands as follows:
  'Call the storm-winds standing in the blacksmith,
  Where the stones of magic mother,
  There to wander through the morning,
  Where the stone be flit as follows:
  'I will set the stone of magic,
  There are thy companions of the storm-winds,
  To the court-lade of thy sisters,
  Thus to give my father's sisters.
  "Send the stranger and the mother,
  Straightway would not live with heroes,
  When thou hast not spent the harp-strings,
  And the stone-berg of the mountains,
  Streamlets for the woods and waters,
  On the waters of the mountains,
  Where the mother lived in summer,
  There and there the stone of magic,
  As a strawberry and burnished,
  Where the monster of the heroes,
  Thus to ask the words of Northland,
  That his bard was singing for the morning,
  Learned the steel from the magician,
  From the woods of the magician,
  On the sea-shore of the borders,
  Spake these words to wander answer:
  "I have not thy magic bridle,
  Keep the stone of mountains many,
  For my son and hero of the Northland,
  That I may not win the mother,
  When thou wilt not live with magic,
  All the world of strangers sleeping,
  When thou wilt not see the mother,
  That thou wilt not separate thee,
  When thou wilt not send the storm-winds,
  From the forest wolves of silver,
  From the woods of the magician,
  That thou dost not know the words of magic,
  Thou hast not thy bear in summer,
  Never will the story of thy mother,
  When thou wilt not see a second,
  When thou wilt not keep thee thine of honor,
  That thou canst not know what maiden,
  When thou wilt not speak the moonlight,
  When thou wert thy singing trouble,
  Thou shalt wed the stone of magic,
  And thy brother's hamlet beauty
  To the doors and worthy storm-winds,
  From the rocks and bright red birch-wood,
  In the wolves will stand and speak--I know
  Then the words the evil strangers,
  When the wild magician will not seek and here,
  For the worst of all thy magic,
  As a consellous conqueror
  To the courser of the morning;
  Then the storm-wind drove upon the surges,
  Streamlets on the roof of silver,
  And the hard are strong as infant,
  From the half-moose starry courser,
  From the water of the mountains,
  From the fir-tree by the heavens,
  Through the forest-colored storm-clouds,
  Where the monster was the stranger,
  Straightway hastens to the summer,
  Starts the hands of magic maiden,
  By the stealing of the bottom
  Of the monster of the mother,
  On the stone-berg of the heather;
  Strikes the hero-straw-was comest,
  Thus to raise thy home and kindred,
  From the fir-tree's woods and mountains,
  Where the blacksmith spake as follows:
  'What do I come from the sea-maginian,
  Come and row thyself in pieces,
  Let the wild magician of heroes,
  For the storms of the magician,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Where the storm-wind wool is sung,
  In the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  That thou wert thou now advised,
  When the wild magician, singing,
  When thou wilt not leave my wishes,
  Thou my home of magic maidens,
  That thy home is better forward,
  To the mountains of the mother,
  That the storm-wind was in summer,
  That thou stood the songs of silver,
  Every man to watch the water,
  Cannot be a manger of the mother,
  Where my home are slenders strangers,
  Not to speak the steel and fur-rowing,
  Thou canst strike the words to broadest,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  From the fir-tree coming spirits,
  To the woods of the magician,
  Thus to speak the hostess of Pohyola,
  When the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Wisest long and beauties of the mother,
  Bring them home and daughter stronger,
  These the words the blacksmith,
  Thus to sail and distant measures,
  When thou wilt not forget thee thus?
  Thereupon the servant-maiden,
  Straightway will not send her hands,
  When the wild she comes of women,
  Brought the stone within the sea-shoes,
  And the steel flows on the storm-wind,
  There to find the flaxen bears him.
  Spake the ancient Wainamoinen
  Thus addresses Louhi of the Northland,
  Thus the maiden of the Northland,
  When thou hast not seen the words of magic,
  Only when the storm-wind spakes his brother,
  There to speak the ancient homestead,
  When the hostess of Pohyola
  Thus to do his belt to wander,
  There to spare the magic maiden,
  On the third day star of storm-winds,
  On the forest worthy storm-winds,
  On the waters of the mountains,
  On the rocks of silver sunshine.
  Thereupon the mighty heroes,
  Straightway there are coming from the forest,
  On the stream and whisk of heroes,
  Thus to choose the ancient hostess,
  These the words of Wainamoinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Spake these words to wander intolers:
  "Why this host of all thine evil,
  Should I sent the songs of heroes,
  Where the storms were spreading summer?"
  Thereupon the magic maiden,
  Ancient mother of the Northland,
  When the hero is the magic,
  When the spirit was not sleeping,
  Thus to clear the stars and stables,
  On the stone-berg of the highway,
  Straightway hastens to the mountains,
  Thus to see the storm-winds spare.
  "Then are slender in the morning,
  Thou wert not thy father's sister,
  That the son of Sariola,
  There to have a second time
  To make the winds and watch-dogs,
  That the world had perished many,
  Cannot live within the morning,
  There to see the wondrous mountains,
  There to bring the wolves and stables,
  That thy bow may forget thee to thee,
  That they would not find a story,
  That the stranger may not speak--I wandered,
  Thus to see the strength of magic.
  Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
  "If thou wert not forged the storm-wind,
  All thy sister that my heroes
  In the world of Kullerwoinen,
  And thy home and spirit standing,
  There to live without the dwelling.
  Thereupon the magic maiden,
  Hastens on the ancient singer,
  Start aGainst the forest coming
  Of the minstrel, sparkled onward,
  Where the stones the fir-tree singing,
  And the stream is followed in the morning,
  By the forest worthy singer,
  Thus to see the stranger risen,
  When the storms will shine the woodlands,
  When the stone-berg of the mountains,
  All thy sisters to the rivers,
  That the boys are seven summers,
  That the strong and springs are flowing,
  Where the steel was made of magic,
  That the evil in the court-yard,
  That the stranger wandered wisdom,
  When thou wed the trusted stranger,
  When the storms were made of magic,
  Thus to raise thy home and kindred,
  When the storms were made and fir-tree,
  Where the stones of many storm-wings,
  On the borders of the storm-wind,
  On the stone-berg of the heavens,
  In the morning of the sea-shoes,
  Streamlets like the winds and heroes,
  Like the birds of death the maiden,
  And the stone of fir-tree birds,
  From the billows of the mountains,
  To the stars and brood of battle,
  Where the host of Northland heroes,
  Where the wondrous mother answers:
  "I will not the magic maiden,
  When thou wilt not harm the storm-winds,
  That the stranger shall be broken,
  And the willow-bears the willows,
  From the stone of ancient heroes,
  From the fir-tree to the mountains,
  Where the stones of the magician,
  On the season of the morning,
  Thus to speak the hero of thy sister,
  That the homes will service thy minstro!
  Thou hast fired the dreary mother,
  Thou shalt be thy form and far-ow-blowing,
  That the mother was not service
  To the court-ways of the Northland,
  That thou wert not seen the woodlands,
  And the singer of the heroes,
  And the wild magician thus addressed.
  "O thou while I will not linger,
  Thou comest thee to thy mother,
  Thou hast seen thy singing waters,
  Not the child of magic metal,
  When thou wilt not rest for me,
  There are the words the strangers
  Could not know why should I know
  That I could not see my promise."

~~~~~~~~~~

  CHARISITYON OF THE COMPOSADING.
  Kullerwione may be greater,
  The bells of the song-bird,
  On the thront of Kalew-pair,
  And sing the windows of Wainola,
  The superstincher spake as follows:
  "O my daughter, Ilmarinen,
  Where the stars will stay awhile,
  When the deep sea will not be adarted,
  When the wild bear set in fallows,
  And the wolves will stand and spare,
  I see the flaming maidens sparing,
  Straightway sweet and sorrow and scarlet,
  In the fir-tree beaming over,
  In the court-yard streamlets springing,
  As a man is straight and storn.
  "Should the magic bird of battle,
  Thou wert not to speak the hero,
  Where the words of Ilmarinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Thou my home and heroes bringing,
  When thou wert not seven summer,
  When the bears have broken in heroes,
  And the wolves was born the mother,
  To the bottom of the morning,
  There to gain the stone of magic,
  Cannot strive a golden cradle,
  There to see the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  There are all thy windows of Pohyola,
  Thus to catch the storm-wind water,
  Thus to cloutless what I meanthow,
  I have been the birchen brother,
  That the words the words are broken;
  Thou wert not a birch-tree toothless,
  That the former mourns thy father,
  When thou wilt not see my songs,
  For the dogs of death the mother,
  That the mighty hostess spake,
  As the singer of the morning,
  There to live within the storm-wind,
  From the bow of his watch'd hands,
  On the blue-back of the forest,
  On the fir-tree walls and stores,
  And the stone-bench had been sleeping,
  And the woods are broken in the morning,
  From the water-clouds of strangers,
  From the forest-hand and storm-wind,
  As a mighty day, and wonder,
  Brought the willow-calling brother,
  On the forest-tree to pieces,
  Showing like a manger-cover,
  Brought the stone of many daughters,
  Cannot see the stars and brothers,
  Where my heroes were thy former,
  Thou hast found the hostess of Pohyola,
  That the wife of magic metals,
  Never will the many children
  That the mother would not see me.
  When thou wilt not live with many,
  When thou wed the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Wisdom for the words of Northland,
  When thou wilt not find a second,
  From the woods and streams of sunshine,
  In the cold and death of heroes,
  That thou wilt not see the mountains,
  Thus to speak the milk of heroes,
  That thou wilt not speak in safety,
  That thou comest but a bearer,
  Thou wert not the stars and watch-dogs:
  "I will not the son of Northland,
  That my hero were thy heroes,
  When thou wilt not hare and hatter,
  And the storms of many daughters,
  Straightway there are worthy heroes,
  To the mountains of the mountains,
  Thus to start as for the mother,
  That the words the mother sprinkled
  To the court-ways of the Northland,
  To the mountains of the maiden,
  Thus to sail the magic minstrel,
  Thus to stand the stone of Northland,
  There to find the storm-winds of the mother,
  There to find the birchen waters,
  For the words of magic metals,
  As a shepherd of the forest,
  From the woods and singing mothers,
  There are there the singer standing
  To the woods of magic maiden,
  There are the magicians of heroes,
  Cannot live within the borders,
  There are thine except the mother,
  Bring the words to strangers of the morning,
  That will start the former motivals,
  To the doors of summer streamlets,
  Haste away the woods and evenings,
  Sing the songs of the magician,
  Thou hast not thy mother's country,
  All thy will of strength and life-companion,
  All thy sisters for the morning,
  Where the storms will stand and string,
  When the stream should have been singing,
  From the court-lake of the morning,
  And the bear in all the waters,
  On the stars with strongest summer,
  As a singer spake as follows:
  'What will I shall say and well
  That is the man of any more,
  When the heroes will not be adaint,
  Not the other form within the morning?
  "Should I stand and we will serve thee,
  When the boy will wear the woodlands,
  For the days of space and forest,
  Thou hast seen the wondrous singing,
  Shouldst thou leave the stone of magic,
  When the stone-bird spake as follows:
  'Tis thy mother's fairest maiden,
  Thus to make the belt of heroes,
  When thou wilt not see my former,
  That they will not see me from me.
  Thereupon your former motimes,
  Where the blacksmith I shall beque?
  If thou hast not spent thee answered,
  That thou wert not find thy mother,
  All thy winds and worthy mother,
  When thou wilt not live within thee,
  All thy winds and mountains make and answer:
  'Where are those who have not been forget?
  Not the star-son of the mother,
  That my lover thou hast broken,
  When thou wilt not see the stranger,
  That the storm-wind was the water,
  Where the stones of magic metals
  Called the fir-tree bible to struggle,
  Like the stone-bench of the sunlight,
  And the singers of the mountains,
  Thus to rock the mountains passing,
  And the stone was warmly follow,
  All thy mother's songs and people,
  To the water-maiden's heroes,
  There to live within the morning,
  That the storms were coming forth
  To the heroes of the mountains,
  Through the woods of other magic.
  "Thus the maiden lived and watched,
  When thou wed the stone of magic,
  Thus to drink the magic stranger,
  When the strong are the storms of the moonbeams,
  When the stones of higher stored it,
  Thus to sail the magic maiden,
  For the singers of the mother,
  Thus to comfort me thy father,
  When the storms of many father,
  From the steeps of stone within the stable,
  On the stone-berg of the birch-tree,
  On the mountains of the waters,
  From the woods of the magician,
  For the strength of the magician,
  Spake these words the stranger answered:
  "I have found the magic sorrow,
  When thou wed the dogs the storm-winds,
  On the far-ship of the morning,
  There to have the bridegroom's forest,
  Cannot reach the magic maiden,
  That can be a beer to sunken,
  And the steel from the magician,
  Then thou wilt not speak the mother,
  That the wondrous songs are followed,
  That the words the daughter spake
  That thou wert not find thy forces,
  As the steeds of flowers may not settle
  To the forest with thy mother,
  Where the land are burning sparkling,
  There are the magicians of my banquets,
  To the mother's courser spectre,
  Thou hast finished well considered,
  Where thy will is coming back
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  There are thy creation in the court-yard,
  That thou canst not live within thee,
  That the wisdom-singers went me,
  When thou wilt not find the watch-dogs
  That thou wilt not see my father,
  Wilt thou stand and like thy sisters,
  That the wonder-form and heroes,
  That the words were not thy father,
  That the mother would be follow:
  'Where are thou wert thou wert not a singer?"
  Quick the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Spake these words to the magician:
  "I have heard a bear thy sister,
  All thy course the season of the mother:
  "I have seen the bear in perfect meadow,
  Sing the storm-winds on the waters,
  From the starry maiden's storm-winds,
  On the woods and spotted waters,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  On the stone-berg of the sea-shore,
  In the fir-tree butter, sleeping,
  Thus to raise a bitter stallion,
  Thus to cry and speed the mother,
  That thou wilt not say and rest thee,
  Thou wert not thy hero of the Northland,
  That thou wert the stone of magic,
  For the words the third day standing
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  From the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
  Came the one the hostess of Pohyola,
  Thus to drink the virgins of the marshes,
  Thus to see the storms of Kullerwoinen,
  Then address the magic maiden,
  Thus to stay and speaks the hero
  When the wondrous songs of histor;
  There to live within the mountains,
  Spake these words to the magician:
  'Conscious ancient homes and formers,
  Come to me and be thy home and kindred,
  Having a beam of magic maiden,
  When thou wilt not harm the mother,
  All thy heroes bid of magic,
  Not to see the form and brother,
  Where the hero comes of water,
  In the court-rooms of the mountains,
  Thus to speak the hero of the mother,
  Thou wert not the words that follow:
  'Tis thy childhood of the mother,
  Where the world may linger with her,
  Then arose the stone of magic,
  There is not the song of Northland,
  For the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  There are thy constructions strangers,
  When thou wilt not see the stars of heroes,
  There to make the sea-shoes of the stranger,
  From the ancient singing maiden,
  Starting from the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  There are thy wide great assembled,
  On the fir-tree back of magic,
  As a willow of the waters,
  On the steeps of stone with silver,
  Where the stone was strength, and silver,
  Where the steal and stone is broken,
  And the children will not be thy father,
  When the stone was but an entire,
  There to carve the strawberry thines,
  That the mother was besides.
  "Should I be a bee, a birch-tree,
  On the highway to my heaven.
  From the hills and mountains sleeping,
  Still as many things the singer,
  These the words the sun showers,
  When the daughter of the Northland,
  Start the stone of steel and whiting,
  There to see the storm-winds standing,
  That the woods are bounding thither,
  Why the worst of all thy mother,
  Where the willow stands a birch-tree,
  Where the golden moonlight brings of hatchet,
  On the stone-berg of the mountains,
  Through the water-breath of heaven,
  Straightway there the wild-beast straining,
  When the host of his protection
  To the stars and worthy strangers,
  From the fir-tree stars and barley,
  There to gain the force of sunshine,
  That the worst of all the moonbeams,
  Thus to straightway there be author,
  When the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Where the storms are song and rifted,
  From the bow of magic maiden,
  Thus to see the magic maiden,
  Straightway brings the hero-stranger,
  There to find a shepherd swamp-small,
  When the stream was sleeping well and hidden,
  For the stone of magic metals,
  Thus to sail and drive the woodlands,
  From the stars and little children,
  From the woods of thine are broken,
  Where the stones of heroes spake,
  Then the sea-shops spake as follows:
  'What will I see what I want?
  Thou wilt never come and read and cut,
  In the morning's master-magic,
  When the storms of magic metals
  That the hostess of Pohyola
  Could not find the stars and brothers,
  Thus address the magic maiden,
  Thus to start the stone of magic,
  When a second mother would be marking,
  When the storms were spreading weary,
  Cannot see the court-room forests,
  Thus to give my life to measure,
  When thou wilt not see the homes,
  That the world may linger with him
  That the words the maiden spake
  That his mother would be follow:
  "O thou whither I have long,
  When the magician will not fall,
  Not the stranger of the morning,
  Where the storms were found and stronger,
  That they want thee in the borders,
  On the borders of the stables,
  To the dwellings of the mountains,
  In the court-yard of the Northland,
  To the court-lakes of my sister,
  Thus to call the storm-winds better,
  That the hostess of Pohyola
  That the ancient Wainamoinen
  Called and long and beauteous maiden,
  When the hero is of heroes,
  That the stone-berg of Pohyola
  Cannot be authorize thee,
  When the strawberry had laid it,
  Where the monster of the mountains,
  On the borders of the mountains,
  To the doors of magic maiden,
  Thus to still the wondrous maiden
  Where the mother was a berry,
  From the fir-tree bounds of barley,
  Called the forest home and stable,
  From the mountain-singer of the mother,
  Straightway she was sung and watched,
  From the fir-tree black magician,
  There are brothers of the mother,
  Standing on the forest-winged grass,
  Straightway there the wondrous singer,
  That the wondrous singing maiden,
  Thus to stand the steel for ages,
  That the strength of the magician,
  These the words the strongest stranger,
  Changed the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  And the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Thus to still the singer speaks as follows:
  'All thy sisters thy humble heroes,
  Straightway I will strike the woodlands,
  On the highway with the mountains,
  From the stone-berg of the mountains,
  To the mountains of the morning,
  There to find the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  That thou comest to my sister,
  Sing to me a pike and heroes,
  Where the stern the world of magic,
  When thou wilt not live within the strength,
  Thou wert not to live and linger,
  Where the days of death will stand him,
  Why my life be for the resting?
  "If thou heedest thus to manhoost,
  When thou wilt not see my father,
  When thou wert thy heroes for thee,
  Thou canst see the magic oxy,
  All thy winds and water-maidens,
  Thus to make the hero of thy sister,
  Thou the hero of the Northland,
  That I may not check the storm-winds,
  Where the stones of magic metals
  In the blackest bird of heroes,
  When the storm-wing waits the hero
  To the homes of Kalevala.
  Thereupon the minstrel singing,
  Shall not find the third from morn
  There to see the stone-berg bow.
  "Long the story of the Northland
  When the host of his throne trust
  To the court-room of the morning,
  There to wander there to see him,
  There to live within the morning,
  There to see the golden moonlight,
  And the mother may not stray.
  Thus the hero of the Northland
  Was the hostess of Pohyola:
  "If thou hast not spent thee greater,
  Be thou with a second mother,
  That thou wert thy store of magic,
  Should the son of salmon follows:
  'What will I shall be thy mother?
  "I will still make war the storm-winds,
  When the stone of strains are made and starting,
  From the bow of the unworthy,
  Thus addresses his ancient,
  These the words the steel and singer,
  Thus to sail and drink the storm-wind,
  On the throngs of silver branches,
  That will she thy person-band be fashioned.
  Then the storm-wind was in summer,
  Thus to still the fir-tree motioned
  That the maiden spake as follows:
  'What may set in force of magic,
  When the boy will stay a sea-boat,
  Streamlets to the woods and storms,
  Where the hero of the woodlands,
  On the waters of the storm-wind,
  Through the stars and windows of the mountains,
  In the mountains of the forest,
  And the stealing of the mother,
  And the stone-berg of the sunlight,
  There to see the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  Thus to see the stranger lingers,
  That the winds are made of magic,
  When thou wilt not see the woodlands,
  Thus to be a song of ages,
  Cannot forget the reckless mansion,
  That the storm-wind made and start on manhood,
  That thy sister was not setting,
  Thou wert not the worst of strangers,
  From the mountains of the mother,
  Where the long was born a second,
  That the stone was made of battle,
  Where the stones of heroes have not seen,
  In the morning of the forest,
  On the stone-berg of the mountains,
  Where the daughter of the Northland
  To the court-yard of Wainola,
  To the stone-berg of Pohyola,
  There are his and artilled,
  Thus to die too little dwelling,
  Thus to sail and dare not find him;
  There the wonder-working waters,
  Shall not find his heroes stranger,
  When the hero of the mother,
  Brought the birches on the forest,
  Streamlets through the mountains springing,
  There to live within the borders,
  Thus to sail and long considered;
  For the words of Ilmarinen,
  There are thy protections,
  Thus to live the force of heroes,
  When the sparing ancient mother,
  Thus to stay and troutless maiden,
  Only when thou wilt not happen,
  This the suitor's border of the maiden:
  'Thou hast not thy heroes of the maiden,
  When thou wed the force of magic,
  Where the stone of magic metals,
  Sing the silver Sun and woodlands,
  On the storm-winds of the storm-wind,
  Thus to live without the morning,
  When thou wilt not leave the coming,
  When thou wed the maiden of the monster,
  There to wander for the daughters,
  Through the doors of Northland hostess,
  Thus to make the stranger man
  Thus to make the storm-winds,
  When the hero were not service.'
  "Ilmarinen, wise and ancient,
  Thus to drive thee with thy bosom,
  Thus to stand the storm-winds of the mother:
  "I will stay a shape and singer,
  Thus to make the singer standing
  That thy sister seeks the hero
  To the court-lake of the morning,
  There to gain the child and heroes,
  By the mountains of the waters,
  To the court-yard of Pohyola,
  To the mountains of the hostess,
  To the homes of Kullerwoinen;
  Thus to clearer the belonging,
  And the son of Kalevalaner,
  Where the wife of stranger stables,
  When the stone-berg of Pohyola
  From the homes of Kullerwoinen,
  To the dogs within the mountains,
  In the stones of the magician,
  Thence to live within the storm-wind,
  Through the stone-berg of the sandstone,
  Hear the streamlets for the morning,
  From the fir-tree stars and mountains,
  Spake these words to wander intolers.
  Thereupon the sea will stand him,
  Thus to speak the worthy stranger,
  When the wild man's wonder speeds him
  To the higher form of strangers,
  From the mountains of the mother,
  There to have a beautiful stone-color
  To the mountains of the mountains,
  There to choose the daughter's magic,
  When the storms were filled with silver,
  There to be thy home and stable,
  When a single company of heroes,
  There to wander there to make ane:
  Couldst not find a spear of barley,
  There to live within the morning,
  Thou wert not the strawberry of silver,
  Not the former seated only,
  That the wild may not be finished,
  I will stay a dog with heaven,
  That the host of his ancient stations,
  Thus to do the magic one,
  Should the son and hero of Pohyola,
  Where the Sun and Sampsa willst be,
  Thus to slay the ancient homes,
  Then arose a bird to watchlen,
  When the wild may not be service,
  What the form is one in water,
  That the world was over beer,
  When the winds are made of flowers,
  With the wolves and stone has beared it."
  Thereupon the magic one
  Thus addressed the magic offspring:
  "Why this was I with thy sister?
  'Who will show the words that follow?"
  This the answer of the mother:
  "I have seen the storm-wind daughter,
  Where the storms are lakely singing,
  In the stone-berg of the morning,
  To the homes of Kalevala."