The Death of Kalev

The second canto of the Kalevipoeg carries the weight of the epic's founding grief. Kalev, the mythical king of Estonia, lies dying. He prophesies to his wife Linda that a last son shall be born — the one who will rule the undivided kingdom. Linda sends her brooch and a ladybug across three kingdoms to seek a healer; they ask the Moon, the Star, and the Sun, but all are silent. The sages answer: what drought has scorched, no seedling rises. Kalev dies before the messengers return.

Linda's mourning is among the most powerful passages in Estonian literature. She washes the corpse with tears and sea-water, combs his hair with golden combs, dresses him in silk and velvet, and buries him ten fathoms deep. Flowers grow on the grave — red over his face, blue over his eyes, buttercups over his brows. Then she carries stones to mark the grave, stumbles, drops an ironstone boulder, and weeps upon it so bitterly that her tears become Ülemiste Lake in Tallinn. The stone still stands by the shore.

The canto ends with the birth of Kalevipoeg — the gods Uku and Rõugutaja attend the delivery — and the child's superhuman growth, followed by suitors courting the widow Linda, who refuses them all. A Finnish sorcerer threatens revenge, but she trusts in her three eagle-sons.

This is a Good Works Translation by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, translated from the Estonian text of the 1857 first edition as preserved in Project Gutenberg. The parallelism and rhythm of Estonian regivärss are preserved in the line structure. No existing English translation was consulted as a source.

The Singer's Invocation

When I begin to proclaim,
To set the song-chain rolling,
To roll the old tale onward:
No reins can hold me,
Reins hold me, ropes bind me,
Clouds cannot contain the long song,
The wide heaven cannot tame it.

Villages stay to listen,
Manors pause to ponder,
Gentry stand in droves,
Towns spy from afar.

The Sons of Kalev

Life was at its young noon,
At the turning of midday,
When Kalev's dear companion
Had richly borne offspring.

Linda, with her singing mouth,
Rocking the cradle-swing,
Had raised strong sons
To bear their father's form,

At her generous breast,
At the mother's spring of love,
Had nourished them to stand upright,
Nursed them into human beings,

In the moonlight, at her husband's side,
Tempered them into heroes,
Rocked them into understanding:

Until they grew to manage affairs,
Until they shortened the step to manhood.

Of sons, at their father's life-evening,
Two still grew at home,
Two like pea-pods.

Others had followed the wind's guidance,
On the signposts of bird-roads
Taken the path to foreign lands,
Gone on long journeys far away;

Gone to seek fortune,
To catch a nesting-place.

For our narrow place,
The meagerly-milking farmland,
Could not feed them all,
Nor bring them food,
Nor build them shelters,
Nor provide them clothing.

Father Kalev had commanded,
With firm word confirmed:
Our unsurveyed land
As one son's inheritance,
To leave as a realm of rule.

Though sons by the household
Grew to their father's stature,
And in pieces of his strength
Had taken their share of their father's power,

Still, visibly,
The father's being blossomed —
Mind-wisdom, discernment —
More abundantly than in the others
In the last-born shoot:

Who, like the dearest nestling-egg,
The marriage's last-fruit,
Late, after his father's death,
Rolled into the light of day.

Signs of Kalev's Son

Still the traces of the youngest son,
Memory's markings,
Can be found in many places across the land.

In places they speak
His name on the people's tongues
About the youngest shoot;

Though the greater Estonian folk
To this day know about him
No other name to give,
No proper name to reveal,
Than that at every telling
They name him Kalevipoeg.

On the trail of this son
Rivers begin to run,
Waves on the sea to gleam,
Clouds on the wind to scatter,
Blossoms from their sheaths to push,
Birds in the treetops to sing,
Cuckoos to drop gold!

That youngest son,
Estonia's ancient ruler,
Singers' stories praise,
Old sayings extol:

Whether somewhere in villages,
In lonely huts
Where Estonian boys are swelling,
Daughters rising:

Who has not from their parents' mouths
Heard the memories of olden times,
Of Kalevipoeg?

Go, son, to Pärnumaa,
Follow on to Järvamaa,
Step on Harju's paths,
Ride to Lääne's meadows,
Roll to Viru's shore,
Go to Pihkva's borders,
Behind Taara's oak grove,
Drive your grey horse past Alutaguse,
Alongside toward Finland's cape:

In every place sprout
Tidings of Kalev's son.

Rising from heather in the dew,
From the mist-coat's shelter,
Kalev's witness pushes through
The oaken avenue,
Over the copper gate,
From the heart of firm rock,
Through iron walls,
Through towers of steel.

Only in Tartumaa have frozen
The memories of old times.

Kalev's Prophecy

When the blessed evening came,
The quiet twilight of life,
Then Kalev, in secret words,
In the manner of a prophecy,
Revealed to his dear wife,
Disclosed the matter thus:

"Linda, dear little flower,
Golden buttercup,
You who in your spring walking,
In the rowing of summer days,
Have borne me strong sons,
Swelled them with love's milk,
Rocked them on your arm:

You shall yet in autumn
From blossom grow a pod,
From acorn bring forth an oak.

Linda, dear companion,
Little flower grown in the West,
Daughter risen from a grouse-egg,
Now again you walk on long days
The heavy foot of waiting-time,
Changing your pair of shoes
On your feet every morning,
So that the Evil One may not find the way.

In a short time's watch
You shall bring forth a son,
Bear a strong child into the world;
You shall nourish him at your breast,
Strengthen him at the spring of the breast,
Hush him at your mouth,
Rock him on your arm.

This very son, the nestling-egg,
The last little lamb,
Shall end the begetting.

By the eternal gods'
Counsel held long before,
Soon my eyes shall not
In the withering-age see him;
Yet the last little shoot,
The closing-egg of the line,
A plant grown at winter's border,
Must in all things measure up to me,
In deeds and being rising.

Future ages' mouths shall carry
Memories of his name,
Praises of his mighty deeds.

When the son has grown to manhood,
Taken the power of rule,
Then a blooming age of fortune,
A time of peace among the people,
Shall sprout within Estonia's borders.

I do not wish the kingdom's
Sovereign power to diminish,
To split it piecemeal:
The realm must remain undivided
Under one son's power,
As a fortress for the strongest."

Speaking at greater length,
Said Kalev, old man:

"If the realm remains undivided
As one son's inheritance,
Then the piece has strength,
The great stone has firmness.

Shares are feeble, more powerless —
They would devour each other.

When the youngest son grows to manhood,
Let him cast lots with his brothers,
Who shall be the people's defender,
The kingdom's ruler —
From among them he shall arise.

The gods' guidance,
The Taara-folk's signs,
Shall arrange the matter
Better than our reckonings.

The other brothers, let them roll
To foreign lands' grasses,
To rocky land far off —

Let them build houses on the wind,
Dwellings at the world's edge,
Houses on berry-branches,
Homes on clover-leaves,
Saunas on the cloud's rim,
Bathhouses under the rain.

Lands are of many marks,
The wide heaven is patchy;
The strong one finds on the wind's wing,
Finds in the thick clouds,
The eagle on the cliff a nesting-place.

Strong men are not bound by ropes,
Nor held fast by iron bands."

The Quest of the Brooch

Who lay cold in the chamber,
Frozen in the rooms,
On long straw upon the floor?

Father Kalev, old man,
Already lay cold in the chamber,
Frozen in the rooms,
On long straw upon the floor.

After the long speech,
When he had proclaimed the matters
Concerning the realm's inheritance,
Father Kalev fell
On the long bed to ail,
On the sickbed to falter,
Nor rose to recover,
Nor bent his legs beneath him.

The wife sent her brooch sailing,
Sent her ladybug flying:
"Sail, brooch, reach, brooch,
Fly, little ladybug!
Go seek a healer,
A wind-sage to tend,
A word-sage to counsel."

The brooch sailed seven days,
The little ladybug flew
Over land and over sea,
Through three kingdoms,
Much land yet on the northern path.

Who came toward them?

They saw the Moon rising,
Stars climbing at his heels.

"Greetings, Moon, well of health,
Dear spring of strength,
Rushing river of powers!
Will our father be healed,
Will the old one escape his bed-prison?"

The Moon heard with a sorrowful face,
But gave no answer to the asker.

The brooch sailed seven days,
The little ladybug flew
Over land and over sea,
Through three kingdoms,
Much land yet on the northern path;
Flew through the wildwoods,
A league through the blue-forest,
Past mountains tipped with gold.

What came toward them?

They saw the Star rising,
The Evening Star climbing.

"Greetings, Star, sharp-eyed one,
Marten-eyed youth!
Tell us, child of heaven:
Will our father be healed,
Will the old one escape his bed-prison?"

The Star heard with sharp eyes,
But gave no answer to the asker.
The Star faded to the edge of heaven.

The brooch sailed seven days,
The little ladybug flew
Over land and over sea,
Through three kingdoms,
Much land yet southward,
Flew through the wildwoods,
Seven leagues through the blue-forest,
Past mountains tipped with gold.

What came toward them?

They saw the Sun rising,
The candle of light climbing.

"Greetings, Sun, bright groom!
Tell us, golden-eyed one,
Tell us, child of heaven:
Will our father be healed,
Will the old one escape his bed-prison?"

The Sun heard with burning face,
But gave no answer to the asker.

The wife sent her brooch sailing,
Sent her ladybug flying:
"Sail, brooch, reach, brooch,
Fly, little ladybug!
Go seek a healer,
A wind-sage to tend,
A word-sage to counsel,
A charm-sage to entreat!"

The brooch sailed seven days,
The little ladybug flew
Over land and over sea,
Through three kingdoms,
Much land yet on the northern path;
Flew through the wildwoods,
Seven leagues through the blue-forest,
Past mountains tipped with gold.

Who came toward them?

There came the wind-sage,
From Finland the old word-sage,
From the Hill of Gold the charm-sage.

"Greetings, greetings, sages of the world!
Proclaim to the asker,
Give answer to the one who prays:
Will our father be healed,
Will the old one escape his bed-prison?
Already I asked the Moon,
Inquired of the Sun,
Sought a verdict from the Star-son —
None of those three proclaimed it."

The sages understood, replied,
Spoke in three tongues:

"What drought has scorched,
What heat has withered on the field,
What moonlight has yellowed,
What the star's eye has killed —
From that no seedling rises,
No fair sprout."

Before the brooch from its sailing,
The ladybug from its flying,
Reached home to proclaim,
Father Kalev had already
Yellowed in death.

Linda's Mourning

Linda, the sad widow-woman,
With sorrowful mind, with mourning-tongue,
Wept tears of mourning-longing,
Wept for her withered husband,
Scattered mourning-tears
On her yellowed husband's bed.

She mourned her dear husband's death
Seven nights without sleep,
Seven days without food,
Seven dawns in sorrow,
Seven twilights in mourning-pain,
So that no skin covered her eyes,
Nor ceased the tear from her eyelid,
The weeping-water from her cheeks,
Pain's burden from her soul.

Linda, the sad widow-woman,
Washed the cold corpse,
Washed him with tears,
Washed him with sea-water,
Bathed the dear one with rain-water,
Rinsed him with spring-water,
Smoothed his hair with loving fingers,
Smoothed it with silver brushes,
Combed it with golden combs
With which once a water-maiden
Had combed her own head.

Then she put on him a silken shirt,
A velvet burial robe
Over the gold-bordered coat,
A silver belt on the jacket,
Laid misty linens beneath,
Covered him with fine linens.

Linda, the sad widow-woman,
Dug a fair grave,
A bed beneath the green turf,
Ten fathoms deep;
Laid the cold bed,
The prepared resting-place,
For her dear husband to rest.

She filled the bed with gravel
To the height of the ground,
To the paths of the green turf.
Grass grew over the earth,
Meadow-grass over the grave,
Dewy-grass over the neck,
Red flowers over the face,
Blue flowers over the eyes,
Buttercups over the brows.

Linda and the Stone

Linda, the sad widow-woman,
Mourned her departed beloved,
Wept for her withered spouse;
Mourned a month, mourned two,
Lamented well into the third month,
Some days into the fourth month,
Eased mourning with weeping,
Sorrow with tear-dew,
With rolling eye-water.

Linda, the sad widow-woman,
Began to carry stones
To the grave in a pile;
Wished to make a sign-mark
For after-ages' sons,
For future-time's daughters:
Where Kalev's grave lies,
The old father's little bed.

Whoever has gone to Tallinn
And known how to raise their eyes
Has seen the grave-mound,
Where after-ages' people
Have built proud buildings,
Made a fine church.

The place now is called
The hill of Tallinn.
There old Kalev rests,
Sleeps an eternal sleep.

Linda, the sad widow-woman,
In memory of her husband's grave,
While gathering stones together,
One day had a heavy,
A weighty ironstone boulder,
Carried far toward the grave.

The stone's weight tormented her hand;
As the widow's strength gave out,
Power already failing,
Still a fair stretch of road remained,
A stretch of road, a mark of land,
Before she could reach the grave.

Stumbling against a hillock,
Her tired foot slipped;
The stone began to slide,
Broke free from the hair-bands,
From the knot-tied loop —
Crash! Down before her feet.

The weary widow's power could not —
Strength spent by mourning's drain,
In the heavy-footed days of waiting —
Lift the stone from the ground,
Nor take it a second time into her lap.

The widow sat upon the stone
To rest from weariness;
Began to weep bitterly,
To quench mourning's sorrow:

"Oh, how wretched the poor widow,
The little forsaken berry,
Like a house without support,
Walls without a roof,
Like a field without shade —
At every wind's shaking,
At the water-waves' rolling,
Alone in the world must live,
Alone must bear sorrow!

From the alder, leaves depart,
From the bird-cherry the wind scatters them,
From the apple tree the blossoms,
From the birch the catkins vanish,
They sink from the aspens,
Retreat from the oaks,
Fall from the maples,
Cones drop from the spruces,
Rowan-clusters vanish!

My feast does not improve,
My life does not rise,
Not fewer grow the days of toil,
The tear-rich days of pain!"

Linda wept, the poor widow,
The tears of mourning-time,
The eye-water of wretchedness,
Wept long upon the stone,
Lamenting on the boulder.

The eyelid's water flowed
Into a wide pool on the plain;
From the pool rose a little pond,
From the pond grew a little lake.

Linda's pool of tears,
The widow's mourning-weep lake,
You may see today:
What as Ülemiste Lake
Waves on Laagna hill,
Rolls its water-stream.

The stone stands by the lake's shore,
Where upon it the widow mourned,
Scattered tears.

Thus it was in olden times:
From widow Linda's eye-water,
From mourning-pain's tears,
Ülemiste Lake appeared.

If you chance, dear brother,
Passing the lake on the road,
Sliding toward the town,
Rolling past the lake:

Rest your horse by the lake's shore,
Wet the steed's tongue,
Pass time by the stone,
Think on the old tales,
The journeys of Kalev's age!

Look at the memory-mark
That here the widow, mourning,
Quenching her sorrowful heart,
Released upon the plain
To gleam in the day's sunshine!

The Birth of Kalevipoeg

Already the long day arrived,
The waiting-day drew to evening;
Linda felt the hour,
The heavy hour approaching,
The bitter one hurrying,
The painful one rolling;

She ordered the sauna heated,
The bed prepared,
The sickbed readied,
A resting-bench placed,
A sighing-chair set.

Village women heat the sauna,
Servants carry water from the well,
Others are preparing the bed,
The household placing the bench.

Corner-woman, frail one,
A thousand times she walks between rooms,
A hundred times between saunas,
Ten times the well-road,
From the well taking refreshment!

You walk, poor one, with pained step,
Beltless, belt in hand,
Headscarf off, headscarf in fist,

Sighing toward Uku,
Praying toward Rõugutaja:
"Wind-god, step into the room,
To bathe the one in distress,
To heal the one in need,
To aid the one in anguish!"

Four corners in the room —
All the corners were weeping,
Four walls in the chamber —
All the walls were trembling;
The edges of the hearth were lamenting,
The seats were yearning,
The floor was kneeling in prayer.

Sighing toward Uku,
Praying toward Rõugutaja:
"Wind-god, step into the room,
To bathe the one in distress,
To heal the one in need,
To aid the one in anguish!
Come to see the suffering one,
To deliver the mother of the son!"

The household wept beneath the bench,
Children wept beneath the table,
Village women in the chamber.
The husband slept in his cold bed,
Where he could not hear his wife's weeping.

Corner-woman, frail one,
Passed then through four forests,
Through five places of wretchedness;
One was a forest of bird-cherry,
The second a forest of maple,
The third a forest of wild-rose,
The fourth a forest of rowan,
The fifth a forest of cherry-plum.

Sorrows were left in the bird-cherry,
Pains in the maple,
Bitterness on the wild-rose bush,
Long anguish in the rowan,
Heavy suffering in the cherry-plum.

The sorrows came back again,
Sorrows came to the mother's distress,
Pains back to the poor widow,
Came with anguish to the room,
With groans before the hearth,
With sighs to the rafters.

She sighs toward Uku,
Prays toward Rõugutaja:
"Wind-god, step into the room,
To bathe the one in distress,
To heal the one in need,
To aid the one in anguish;
Come to see the suffering one,
To deliver the mother of the son!"

The household wept beneath the bench,
Children wept beneath the table,
Village women in the chamber.
The husband slept in his cold bed,
Where he could not hear his wife's weeping.

Corner-woman, frail one!
Burden-bearer, weak one!
Already one foot in the grave,
The other on the grave's edge,
You waited to fall into the grave,
To drop into the cold bed!

Sigh toward Uku,
Deeply toward Rõugutaja,
Send prayer-messengers
To the gods above!

The hour came to the room,
A brief moment before the hearth,
Swiftly to the birthing.
The woman swayed, frail one,
Swayed weeping, anguished,
Trembling, suffering;
Sighing toward Uku,
Praying toward Rõugutaja:
"Wind-god, step into the room,
To bathe the one in distress,
To heal the one in need,
To aid the one in anguish!
Come to see the suffering one,
To deliver the mother of the son!"

Uku heard from the chamber,
Rõugutaja from under the barn-roof,
The helpers through the wall,
The lifters through the roof.

Then Uku came to the room,
Rõugutaja to the chamber,
They stepped before the hearth,
Strode to the bed's edge.

Uku had straw on his shoulder,
Rõugutaja had pillows in his arms;
They carried the woman to her bed,
The deathly-distressed one's bed,
The pain-bearer's pillows;
Laid her in fine linens,
Between woolen blankets.

Two heads at the headboard,
Four thighs in the bed,
Four legs at the footboard,
Four hands in the middle.

Uku called over the door,
Rõugutaja in joyful voice:
"Strike shut the grave's doors,
Shut the grave's wide lids!
The woman is carried to bed,
Laid in fine linens,
Two heads at the headboard,
Four thighs in the bed,
Four legs at the footboard,
Four hands in the middle."

Thanks to the old father,
Thanks to the gods,
Thanks to the help-bringers:
Uku was at the hour in the room,
Rõugutaja in the chamber,
Secret help at the bed.

Corner-woman, frail one!
Raise up two hands,
Two hands, ten nails:
You have escaped the anguish-hour!

The Child Grows

For the widow, as mourning's consolation,
As a tear-wiper,
As a sorrow-lightener,
Grew a dear little son.

The son drank love's milk
At his mother's generous breast,
Drank from the tenderness-spring
The power-water that stretches,
The strengthening growing-dew.

Understand, understand, young men,
Reckon, generous lads,
Know, wise women:
Who sleeps in the cradle,
Who in the wrapping's swaddle
Cries with a stubborn mouth!

This is the widow's mourning-son,
The fatherless-growing sprout,
Whom the winds support,
Rain-drops stretch,
Dew-mists strengthen,
Fog-clouds swell.

The mother trod the cradle-foot,
Trod the cradle rocking,
Whistled a song to the frail one
To wish him to slumber.
The son blew the weeping-pipe,
Cut a cry for joy.

He cried a month, cried two,
Wept from evening until morning,
So that no fire went out from the room,
No spark from the bedpost's ember.
The mother went to seek help,
Sought charmers for the child,
Takers of the young one's weeping,
Closers of the son's mouth,
Stoppers of his cries.

When the crying-months ended,
The weeping-weeks' time passed:
The son tore the swaddling-linens,
Ripped to pieces the swaddling-bands,
Broke apart the cradle-boards,
Freed himself from the cradle to the floor
To crawl on hands and knees,
To scramble on all fours.

He crawled a month, crawled two,
On the third already walking,
Growing his legs' strength.

The son drank love's milk
At his mother's generous breast,
Grew to be mourning's consoler,
Sorrow's quencher,
Tears' wiper.

The mother had nursed the son
In love's embrace for three years,
Before she weaned him from the breast.
The son stretched into a boy,
Grew into the son of Kalev,
Showed the signs foretold,
The prophecies of the lost father,
Revealed in every way;
Gathered strength every day,
Nourished his body's vigor.

Kalev's dearest son,
Linda's mourning-consoler,
Grew to herdsboy size,
Strengthened to plowman size,
Rose to the oak's strength,
Showed the signs foretold,
Revealed in every way,
Gathered strength every day,
Nourished his body's vigor.

He played at knucklebones on the turf,
Threw the wheel on the meadow;
Piled knucklebones in the yard
In two heaps,
Struck them with a stick from above the yard,
Sent the knucklebones swaying,
Launched them sailing,
Rolling over the meadow,
Flying through the paddock!
The knucklebones flew far,
Scattered higgledy-piggledy
Through forests, over mountains,
Across the wide flatlands —
Some fell into the waves.

Those knucklebones in some places
Can be seen today:
Smooth-round,
Oval cliff-boulders —
Under the name of Maiden-Stones:
Those are Kalev's knucklebones.

Kalev's youngest son
Launched from the sling's loop
Stones flying;
Skipped pebbles on the sea-surface,
Gathered shore-stones,
Fitting pieces of limestone,
A foot in width perhaps,
Three feet in length,
A couple of inches in thickness.

The skipping-stones flew
Across the wave-surface merrily
More than a league's distance.

While the stone was sailing,
The son of Kalev grew
An oak tall on the high shore.

Kalev's youngest son
Played beneath his mother's yard,
Plucked young spruce-trees,
Straight-growing birches,
Root and all from the ground:
From these he made gentleman's sleighs,
Wicker-baskets for cats.

The year's steps strode
Swiftly on the time-road,
Hurrying ever farther.
Years sailed on the mother's love —
The boy's little boat —
Onto the young man's sea.

Kalev's youngest growth
Grew to a man's height,
Stretched to his brothers' equal,
Straightened to his father's stature.

Thus in the mother's yard,
In widow Linda's mourning-time,
In the buttercup's blossom-beauty,
In Taara's oak-strength,
Grew the last shoot of Kalev,
Grew firm as rock in strength,
Rose wiser than his brothers:
Showed the signs foretold,
The prophecies of the lost father,
Revealed in every way.

The Suitors

Let us send the song's waves
Rolling toward the sun,
Swaying toward the rising,
Rocking toward the dawn,
Let us go on time's swift flight
A stretch of road backward.

What is there beneath the widow's yard,
Early before the daylight,
Going hither and thither,
Riding in secret?

Suitors were going,
Secret-listeners were riding,
Ten times before dawn,
Fifty times before daylight,
A hundred times at smoke-time,
After the father's day of death,
Tormenting the sad widow,
Chasing the clever woman.

When the father had yellowed,
When his love had frozen cold,
When his blood had congealed:
Then to the clever widow-woman
Many suitors had come,
Fifths of wines, sixths of tankards,
A hundred secret matchmakers,
Two hundred bargain-arrangers.

All of them the mother for her wealth,
The rich widow for her treasure,
Tried to snare in a net,
To hook on fortune's fishing-line.

But the mother understood, replied:
"I will not take a husband,
The hen will not take another mate,
The grouse will not take a second,
The swallow will not take a strange groom,
The swan-widow will not take a companion,
The dove will not take another on the farm.

The hours of love have frozen,
The hours of beauty have congealed
Cold beneath the grave-mound."

From this the young men drooped,
From this the suitors saddened;
Cold has taken the courting-thoughts,
Lightning has struck the merry moods,
The lads get no weddings,
The maidens get no dances.

When the other suitors' visits
Gradually faded,
Hope among the men expired,
Then began to court the widow
With a suitor's betrothal-gifts,
To woo her with wine-pouches —
A Finnish sorcerer, a wind-sage.
He was a distant kinsman
Of the lost father Kalev.

But the sad widow did not hear
The groom's worn-out prayers,
Nor turned toward the suitor,
Nor her mind toward young love.
The sorcerer cursed, the wind-sage,
Promised to repay the scorn:
"I shall repay, dear mother,
Another time the spurning,
In my own time the scorning —
I shall pay back the laughter's wage."

The widow Linda held as jest
The wind-sage's threats:
"What have I, sorcerer, wind-sage,
To fear from empty threats!
In my nest three eagle-sons still,
Hook-nosed ones growing,
Iron-clawed ones rising!
They shall protect the mother,
Shield the old woman."

Years sailed, years arrived,
Sailed, arrived with swiftness;
There fell silent the suitors' rides,
The courting-visits vanished:
There came peace for the horses,
Peace for the suitors' stallions.

Whoever had once tried his fortune,
Gone courting to Kalev's house,
He sang to his friends,
Rolled the tale to his brothers:

"Dear brothers, gentle brothers,
Do not go to take the widow,
Do not go courting to Kalev's farm!
She has great brooch-breasts,
Money-necked heavy breasts,
Silver necklaces, iron teeth,
Words of fire on her tongue.

Do not go to take the widow,
Do not go courting to Kalev's farm!
Whoever desires the rich widow:
He brings home a stove-poker!

Build, men, other ships,
Better courting-boats,
Raise silk sails upon them,
Silk sails, tacking-ropes;
Set the ship to sailing,
Send the old ones rowing!

Row, old ones, reach, weary ones,
Row the ship to Finland,
The fine boat to the Northland!

There on the high cliff-shore
Stand maidens in a row:
In front the necklace-necked ones,
Behind the coin-breasted ones,
On the side the ring-wearers,
The holders of long rosaries,
Between them in the row the poor children,
In the middle the curly-necked ones.

Tread down the brooch-breasted ones,
Cast away the necklace-necked ones,
Trample down the coin-breasted ones,
Pass by the ring-wearers,
Scatter the rosary-holders;
Take from among them the poor child,
The curly-necked one from the middle:
From her you shall get a proper wife,
A golden companion!

Do not go to take the widow,
Do not go courting to Kalev's farm!
From a widow you get no bride.
Children have drained the widow's breast:
The brooch is an empty well's lid,
A silver bridge over a dried spring.

The widow mourns her lost husband,
The widow's young man mourns his bride —
Do not go to take the widow!"

Colophon

Kalevipoeg — composed and compiled by Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald from Estonian folk songs and oral tradition, first published in verse form in Kuopio, 1857–1861. This is the second canto — Kalev's death, Linda's mourning, the birth of Kalevipoeg, and the origin of Ülemiste Lake. The canto contains some of the most celebrated passages in Estonian literature, including the quest of the brooch and ladybug through three kingdoms, the flowers growing on Kalev's grave, and Linda's tears becoming a lake.

Translated from 19th-century Estonian by the New Tianmu Anglican Church (Good Works Translation), 2026. Translated by Laine with Claude (Opus 4.6). No existing English translation was used as a source; the English is independently derived from the Estonian text. W.F. Kirby's 1895 English prose translation exists but was not consulted.

Compiled and formatted for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026.

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Source Text: Kalevipoeg — Teine Lugu

Estonian source text from Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald, "Kalevipoeg" (Kuopio, 1857). Digital text from Project Gutenberg. Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.

Kui mina hakkan kuulutama,
Laulujoada laskemaie,
Vana lugu veeretama:
Ei mind jõua ohjad hoida,
Ohjad hoida, köied köita,
Pilved pikka ei pidada,
Taevas laia tallitseda.
Külad jäävad kuulamaie,
Mõisad mõtteid märkamaie,
Saksad parvil seisamaie,
Linnad eemalt luurimaie.
Elu oli noorel lõunel,
Keskepääva keeritusel
Kalevide kaasakesta
Sugul rohkest sigitanud.
Linda oli laulusuuga
Viburidva vibutelles
Kangeid poegi kasvatanud
Isa kuju kandejaksa,
Oli anderohkel rinnal,
Eide armu-allikala
Kaelakandjaks kosutanud,
Inimeseks imetanud,
Kuude valgel taadi rinnal
Kangelaseks karastanud,
Mõistelikuks muisutanud:
Kunni asja-a'ajaks kasvid,
Sammu lühendajaks saivad.
Poegist taadi elu-õhtul
Kaksi alles kodu kasvid,
Kaks kui herne kaunakesta.
Teised olid tuulejuhil,
Linnuteede tähändusel
Võõramaale rada võtnud,
Käiki pikka kaugusela;
Läinud õnne otsimaie,
Pesa-aset püüdemaie.
Ega meie kitsik kohta,
Ahtral lüpsil põllumaada
Võind ei kõiki kasvatada,
Toitu neile toimetada,
Päävarju valmistada,
Kehakatet soetada.
Kalev-taati oli käskind,
Kindlal sõnal kinnitanud:
Meie maada markamata
Ühe poja päranduseks,
Valitsuse vallaks jätta.
Ehk küll pojad perekaupa
Isa suuruseks sirgusid,
Tükaltie tugevusel
Võtnud osa taadi võimust,
Siiski silmanähtavalta
Õitses isa olemine,
Meelemõistus, märkamine
Rohkemalt kui teiste külles
Viimsel sündind võsukesel:
Kes kui kallim pesamuna,
Abielu äbarikku,
Hilja pärast isa surma
Veeres pääva valgusele.
Praegu jälgi viimsest pojast,
Mälestuse märkisida
Laial mitmes kohas leida.
Paigutie pajatakse
nime rahva suussa
Viimse võsukese kohta;
Ehk küll suurem Eesti sugu
Tänapääval tema kohta
Muud ei oska nimeks mõista,
Isenimeks ilmutada,
Kui et igal kuulutusel
nimetab.
Selle poja jälgedele
Saavad jõed jooksemaie,
Laened merel läikimaie,
Tuulil pilved tuiskamaie,
Õied tupesta tungima,
Linnud ladvissa laulema,
Käud kulda kukkumaie!
Seda nooremada poega,
Eesti endist valitsejat,
Kiidab laulikute lugu,
Tõstab vana jutusõna:
Ehk kas kuskil küladessa,
Üksikuila hurtsikuila
Eesti poegi paisumaies,
Tütterida tõusemaies:
Kes ei vanemate suusta
Muistepõlve mälestusi
Kalevipojasta kuulnud?
Mine, poega, Pärnumaale,
Järgukesta Järvamaale,
Astu Harju rajadele,
Sõida Lääne luhadele,
Veere Viru ranna ääre,
Mine Pihkva piiredele,
Taara tammiku tahaje,
Aja hallil Alutaha,
Kõrvil Soome sõrva poole:
Igas paigas idanevad
Kalevipoja sõnumed.
Kastel tõustes kanarpikust,
Udukuue ummuksesta
Tungib Kalevi tunnistus
Läbi tammitse tänava,
Üle vaskise värava,
Kindla kalju keske'elta,
Läbi raudamüürisida,
Teraksesta tornisida.
Tartumaal üksi tarretand
Vanapõlve mälestused.
Kui tuli õnnis õhtuke,
Vaikne elu videvikku,
Siisap Kalev salasõnul
Ettekuulutuse kombel
Eidekesel ilmutanud,
Asja niida avaldanud:
"Linda, kallis lillekene,
Kulla kullerkupukene,
Kes sa kevadisel käigil,
Suvepääva sõuendusel
Kangid poegi mulle kannud,
Armupiimal paisutanud,
Kätevarrel kiigutanud:
Sina saad veel sügisela
Õilmest kauna kasvatama,
Tõrust tooma tammekesta.
Linda, kallis kaasakene,
Läänes kasvand lillekene,
Tedremunast tõusnud tütar,
Käid nüüd jälle pikil päivil
Ootuspõlve rasket jalga,
Vahetelles kingapaari
Jalas iga hommikula,
Et ei Tühi leiaks teeda.
Lühikese aja varul
Saad sa poega poetama,
Kange lapse ilmal' kandma;
Saad teda rüppel ravitsema,
Rinna lättel rammustama,
Suu juures suisutama,
Kätevarrel kiigutama.
See'p see poega pesamuna,
Äbarikku tallekene
Sigidust saab lõpetama.
Igaveste jumalate
Enne peetud aru mööda
Pea ei poega minu silmad
Närtsi-põlves nägemaie;
Siiski viimne võsukene,
Sarja lõpetuse muna,
Talve piirel kasvand taime,
Peab mull' kõiges määraliseks,
Tegudes ja olles tõusma.
Tulevpõlve suu peab kandma
Tema nime mälestusi,
Kange tööde kiitusida.
Kui on poega meheks kasvand,
Valitsuse voli võtnud,
Siis saab õitsev õnne-aega,
Rahupõli rahva keskel
Eesti piiril idanema.
Ma ei taha kuningriigi
Volivalda vähändada,
Lipi-lapi lahutada:
Riik peab jääma jagamata
Ühe poja voli alla,
Kangemale kaitsevallaks."
Pikemalta pajatelles
Ütles Kalev, vanarauka:
"Jääb aga riiki jagamata
Ühe poja päranduseks,
Siis on tükil tugevusta,
Suurel kivil kindelusta.
Osad väetid, võimatumad
Sööksid üksteist ise ära.
Kasvab meheks noorem poega,
Heitku liisku vendadega,
Kesse rahva kaitsejaksa,
Kuningriigi valitsejaks
Nende seast saab tõusemaie.
Jumalate juhatused,
Taaralaiste tähändused
Saavad asja sobitama
Paremast' kui meie arvud.
Teised vennad veerenegu
Võõra maade murudele,
Kaljumaale kauge'ele, —
Tehku toad tuule peale,
Elud ilma ääre peale,
Majad marjavarte peale,
Kojad kobrulehtedele,
Saunad pilve sõrva peale,
Vihtelavad vihma alla.
Maad on mitmemargalised,
Taevas laia laiguline;
Tugev leiab tuuletiivul,
Leiab paksust pilvetesta,
Kotkas kaljult pesapaika.
Kanget meest ei köida köied,
Pea ei kinni raudapaelad."
Kes oli külma kamberila,
Tarretanud tubadele,
Pikil õlgil põrandala?
Kalevi-taat, vanarauka,
Oli külma ju kamberil,
Tarretanud tubadele,
Pikil õlgil põrandala.
Pärast pikka pajatusta,
Kui sai asju kuulutanud
Riigi pärimise pärast,
Langes Kalevide taati
Pikil voodil põdemaie,
Halasängil loksumaie,
Ega tõusnud toetama,
Jalgu alla paenutama.
Eit pani sõle sõudemaie,
Lepatriinu lendamaie:
"Sõua, sõlge, jõua, sõlge,
Lenna, lepatriinukene!
Minge arsti otsimaie,
Tuuletarka tallitama,
Sõnatarka soovitama."
Sõlge sõudis seitse pääva,
Lepatriinukene lendas
Üle maa ja üle mere,
Läbi kolme kuningriigi,
Palju maad veel põhja rajal.
Kesse vasta käidanesse?
Nägi ta kuu tõusemaie,
Tähte kannul kerkimaie.
"Tere, kuu, tervise kaevu,
Armas rammu allikas,
Jõudude joajõgeda!
Kas saab taati terve'eksa,
Peaseb rauka voodi vangist?"
Kuu küll kuulis kurval palgil,
Ei ann'd vastust küsijale.
Sõlge sõudis seitse pääva,
Lepatriinukene lendas
Üle maa ja üle mere,
Läbi kolme kuningriigi,
Palju maad veel põhja rajal;
Lendas läbi metsasida,
Küünra kullasta mägeda.
Mis tal vasta tuldanesse?
Nägi ta tähte tõusemaie,
Ehatähte kerkimaie.
"Tere, tähte, teravsilma,
Nugissilma noorukene!
Pajatele, taeva poega:
Kas saab terveks taadikene,
Peaseb rauka voodi vangist?"
Tähte kuulis teravsilmal,
Ei ann'd vastust küsijale,
Tähte kustus taeva veerde.
Sõlge sõudis seitse pääva,
Lepatriinukene lendas
Üle maa ja üle mere,
Läbi kolme kuningriigi,
Palju maad veel lõune poole,
Lendas läbi laanesida,
Seitse versta sinimetsa,
Küünra kullasta mägeda.
Mis tal vasta tuldanesse?
Nägi ta pääva tõusemaie,
Valgusküünla kerkimaie.
"Tere, pääva, peiukene!
Kuuluta mull', kuldasilma,
Pajatele, taeva poega:
Kas saab terveks taadikene,
Peaseb rauka voodi vangist?"
Päike kuulis põlev-palgil,
Ei ann'd vastust küsijale.
Eit pani sõle sõudemaie,
Lepatriinu lendamaie:
"Sõua, sõlge, jõua, sõlge,
Lenna, lepatriinukene!
Minge arsti otsimaie,
Tuuletarka tallitama,
Sõnatarka soovitama,
Manatarka meelitama!"
Sõlge sõudis seitse pääva,
Lepatriinukene lendas
Üle maa ja üle mere,
Läbi kolme kuningriigi,
Palju maad veel põhja rajal;
Lendas läbi laanesida,
Seitse versta sinimetsa,
Küünra kullasta mägeda.
Kesse vasta käidanesse?
Tuli vasta tuuletarka,
Soomest vana sõnatarka,
Kullamäelta Manatarka.
"Tere, tere, ilmatargad!
Kuulutage küsijale,
Andke vastust palujale:
Kas saab taati terve'eksa,
Peaseb rauka voodi vangist?
Juba küsisin kuulta,
Pärisin ju pääva käesta,
Tahtsin otsust tähe-pojalt, —
Kõik need kolm ei kuulutanud."
Targad mõistsid, kostsid vasta,
Kolmil keelil kõnelesid:
"Mis on põuda põletanud,
Nurmel palav närtsitanud,
Kuude valge kolletanud,
Tähte silma suretanud,
Sest ei tõuse taimekesta,
Ilutseva idukesta."
Enne kui sõlge sõudemasta,
Lepatriinu lendamasta
Koju jõudnud kuulutama,
Oli Kalevide taati
Koolel juba kolletanud.
Linda, kurba leskenaine,
Kurval meelel, leinakeelel
Ikes leina-igatsusi,
Nuttis närtsind kaasakesta,
Puistas leinapisaraida
Kolletanud kaasa sängi.
Leinas kalli mehe surma
Seitse ööd ilma uneta,
Seitse pääva sööma'ata,
Seitse koitu kurvastusel,
Seitse eha leinavalus,
Et ei nahka silmil' saanud,
Ega lõppend laugelt pisar,
Nutuvesi palgedelta,
Piinakoorem hinge pealta.
Linda, kurba leskenaine,
Pesi külma surnukeha,
Pesi teda pisarila,
Pesi teda mereveela,
Vihtles kallist vihmaveela,
Loputeles lätteveela,
Silis hiuksid armu-sõrmil,
Silis hõbeharjadega,
Kammis kuldakammidega,
Miska enne näkineitsi
Oma pääd oli sugenud.
Pani siis selga siidisärgi,
Sammetise surnurüüdi
Kuldatoime kuue peale,
Hõbevööda vammuksile,
Pani alla udulinad,
Kattis peale peened linad.
Linda, kurba leskenaine,
Kaevas valmis kena kalmu,
Sängi halja muru alla,
Kümne sülla sügavuseks;
Sängiteles vilu sängi,
Valmistatud voodiesse
Kalli kaasa puhkamaie.
Täitis sängi sõmeraga.
Maapinna kõrguseni,
Halja muru rajadeni.
Muru kasvis mulla peale,
Aruheina haua peale,
Kasteheina kaela peale,
Punalilled palge peale,
Sinililled silmadele,
Kullerkupud kulmudele.
Linda, kurba leskenaine,
Leinas lahkund armukesta,
Nuttis närtsind abikaasat;
Leinas kuu, leinas kaksi,
Kurtis tüki kolmat kuuda,
Mõne pääva neljat kuuda,
Lepitas leina nutuga,
Kurbtust pisarkastega,
Veerevala silmaveela.
Linda, kurba leskenaine,
Hakkas kiva kandemaie
Haua peale hunnikusse;
Tahtis teha tunnistähte
Pärast-põlve poegadele,
Tulev-aja tütardele:
Kus on Kalevide kalmu,
Vana taadi voodikene.
Kes Tallinnas käidanessa
Silmi oskas sirutada,
Külap nägi kalmu küngast,
Kuhu pärast-põlve rahvas
Uhkeid hooneid ehitanud,
Teinud kena kirikuda.
Kohta praegu kutsutakse
Tallinna .
Sealap vana Kalev puhkab,
Uinub igavesta unda.
Linda, kurba leskenaine,
Mehe haua mälestuseks
Kiva kokku kandenessa
Oli ühel pääval pakku,
Rasket raudakivi rahnu
Kaugelt kannud kalmu poole.
Kivi raske piinas pihta;
Lesel jõudu lõppemisel,
Rammu juba raugemisel,
Veel oli kaunis tükki teeda,
Tükki teeda, marka maada,
Enne kui jõudis kalmule.
Komistades künka vasta
Väsind jalga viirastie;
Kivi kippas libisema.
Põrkas hiukse paeladesta,
Sõlmil siutud silmuksesta
Prantsti! jalge ette maha.
Võind ei väsind lese võimu,
Leina kurnal lõppend jõudu —
Ootuspäevil raskejalgsel
Kivi maasta kergitada,
Teist kord sülle tõstenessa.
Leske istus kivi otsa
Väsimusta puhkamaie;
Hakkas nutma haledaste,
Leina kurbtust kustutama:
"Oh, mis vilets vaene leske,
Mahajäänud marjukene,
Kes kui tuba toeta,
Hooneseinad katukseta,
Kui üks väli varjuta
Iga tuule tuigutusel,
Vete laente veeretaval
Üksi ilmas peab elama,
Üksi kurbtust kannatama!
Lepasta lehed lähevad,
Toomingast tuulil tuiskavad,
Õunapuusta õilmekesed,
Kasesta urvad kauvad,
Alanevad haavadesta,
Taganevad tammedesta,
Varisevad vahterasta,
Käbi kukub kuuskedesta,
Pihlaka kobarad kauvad!
Ei minu pidu parane,
Ei minu elu ülene,
Vähäne ei vaeva päävad,
Pisarrohked piina päävad!"
Linda nuttis, vaene leske,
Leinapõlve pisaraida,
Viletsuse silmavetta,
Nuttis kaua kivi otsas,
Kaljupakul kaebadelles.
Silmalauge vesi valgus
Laiaks loiguks lagedale;
Loigust tõusis tiigikene,
Tiigist jälle järvekene.
Linda pisarate loiku,
Lese leinanutu järve
Võite näha tänapääval:
Mis kui järve
Laagna mäe peal laenetamas,
Vetevoosi veeretamas.
Kivi seisab järve kaldal,
Kus peal leske leina nutnud,
Pisaraida pillutanud.
Nõnda oli ennemuiste
Lese Linda silmaveesta,
Leina-piina pisaratest
Ülemiste järv ilmunud.
Kui sa juhtud, vennikene,
Järve kaudu teeda käies
Linna poole liugumaie,
Järvest mööda veeremaie:
Puhka hobu järve kaldal,
Kasta kõrvikese keelta,
Viida aega kivi ääres,
Mõtle muistelugusida,
Kalevi-põlve käikisi!
Vaata mälestuse-märki,
Mis siin leske leinadessa,
Kurba südant kustutelles
Lagedale lahutanud
pääva paistel hiilgamaie!
Juba jõudis pikka pääva,
Ootuspääva õhtuele;
Linda tundis tunnikesta,
Tuskel tundi tulemaie,
Kibedama kiirustama,
Valusama veeremaie;
Käskis sauna küttaneda,
Sängi aset seadaneda,
Halavoodit valmistada,
Puhkepinki paigutada,
Ohkejäri asutada.
Küla eided kütvad sauna,
Orjad kandvad kaevust vetta,
Teised on sängi seademas,
Pere pinki paigutamas.
Nurganaine, nõrgukene,
Tuhat kord käid toade vahet,
Sada korda sauna vahet,
Kümme korda kaevuteeda,
Kaevust võttes karastusta!
Käid sa vaene valu-sammul
Ilma vööta, vöö käessa,
Ilma tanuta, tanu peussa,
Ohkad aga Uku poole,
Palveid Rõugutaja poole:
"Tuulejumal, astu tuppa,
Vigalista vihtlemaie,
Hädalista arstimaie,
Tusalikku toetamaie!"
Neli nurka toassa,
Kõik sa nurgad nutustasid,
Neli seina kamberila,
Kõik sa seinad seisatasid;
Ahju ääred haletasid,
Istmed ära igatsesid,
Palvil põranda põlvitasid.
Ohkad aga Uku poole,
Palveid Rõugutaja poole:
"Tuulejumal! astu tuppa,
Vigalista vihtlemaie,
Hädalista arstimaie,
Tusalista toetamaie!
Tule vaesta vaatamaie,
Poja ema peastemaie!"
Pere nuttis alla pinki,
Lapsed nutsid alla laua,
Külad, kullad kamberila.
Kaasa magas külmas voodis,
Kus ei kuulnud naise nuttu.
Nurganaine, nõrgukene,
Läbi läks siis nelja metsa,
Viie viletsuse paiga;
Üks oli metsa toomingane,
Teine metsa vahterane,
Kolmas kibuvitsa metsa,
Neljas metsa pihlapuine,
Viies metsa vislapuine.
Tusad jäävad toomingaie,
Valud jäävad vahteraie,
Kibedad kibupuu külge,
Piinad pikad pihlakaissa,
Vaevad rasked vislapuissa.
Tusad tulid tagasie,
Tusad tulid eide tungi,
Valud vaese lese peale,
Tulid tusale tubaje,
Oigadele ahju ette,
Puhkedele parsidele.
Ohkab vaene Uku poole,
Palveid Rõugutaja poole:
"Tuulejumal! astu tuppa,
Vigalista vihtlemaie,
Hädalista arstimaie,
Tusalista toetamaie;
Tule vaesta vaatamaie,
Poja ema peastemaie!"
Pere nuttis alla pinki,
Lapsed nutsid alla laua,
Küla naised kamberila.
Kaasa magas külmas sängis,
Kus ei kuulnud naise nuttu.
Nurganaine, nõrgukene,
Vaevakandja, väetikene!
Üks ju jalg sul haua seessa,
Teine haua ääre peale,
Ootsid hauda langevada,
Külma voodi kukkuvada!
Ohka aga Uku poole,
Rohkest' Rõugutaja poole,
Saada palve-saadikuida
Ülemaile jumalaile!
Tuli tunnike tubaje,
Üürikeseks ahju ette,
Kiirestikku keriksele.
Naine tuikus, nõrgukene,
Tuikus nuttes, tusaline,
Värisedes, vaevaline;
Ohkas aga Uku poole,
Palveid Rõugutaja poole:
"Tuulejumal! astu tuppa,
Vigalista vihtlemaie,
Hädalista arstimaie,
Tusalista toetamaie!
Tule vaesta vaatamaie,
Poja ema peastemaie!"
Uku kuulis kamberista,
Rõugutaja rehe alta,
Abitoojad läbi seina,
Kergitajad läbi katukse.
Siis tuli Uku tubaje,
Rõugutaja kamberisse,
Astusivad ahju ette,
Sammusivad sängi sõrva.
Ukul õled õlanukul,
Rõugutajal padjad kaenlas;
Viisid naise voodiesse,
Surmahädalise sängi,
Piinakandja padjadesse;
Panid peente linadesse,
Villase vaiba vahele.
Kaks sai päida pääluksele,
Neli reite voodiesse,
Neli jalga jalgusele,
Neli kätte keske'ele.
Uku hüüdis üle ukse,
Rõugutaja rõõmsal healel:
"Lööge kinni haua uksed,
Kinni kalmu laiad kaaned!
Naine viidud voodiesse,
Pandud peente linadesse,
Kaks saand päida pääluksele,
Neli reite voodiessa,
Neli jalga jalgusele,
Neli kätte keske'ele."
Tänu vana isadale,
Aitüma jumalaile,
Tänu abitoodejaile:
Uku oli tunni toassa,
Rõugutaja kamberissa,
Sala-abid sängidela.
Nurganaine, nõrgukene!
Tõsta üles kaksi kätta,
Kaksi kätta, kümme küünta:
Et sa tusatunnist peasid!
Lesel’ leina lepituseks,
Pisarate pühkijaksa,
Kurvastuse kergitajaks
Kasvis kallis pojukene.
Poega imes armupiima
Eide rinnal rohke'esta,
Imes heldus-allikalta
Võimuvetta venitavat,
Karastavat kasvumärga.
Mõistke, mõistke, mehed noored,
Arvage, poisid avarad,
Teadanege, naised targad,
Kesse magab kätkiessa,
Kesse mähkme mässitusel
Kiuste suula kiljatamas!
See'p see lese leinapoega,
Isata kasvav idukene,
Keda tuuled toetavad,
Vihmaveered venitavad,
Kaste-aurud karastavad,
Udupilved paisutavad.
Eit aga tallas kätkijalga,
Tallas kätki kiikuvale,
Vilistas laulu väetile
Suikumise soovituseks.
Poega puhus nutupilli,
Leikas kisa lusti pärast.
Karjus kuuda, karjus kaksi,
Nuttis õhtust hommikuni,
Et ei lõppend tuli toasta,
Säde ei sängi sambasta.
Eit läks abi otsimaie,
Otsis lapse lausujaida,
Noore nutuvõttijaida,
Poja suude sulgujaida,
Kisa kinnipanijaida.
Kui sai otsa kisakuuda,
Nutunädalate aega:
Lõhkus poega mähkme linad,
Kiskus puruks mähkme paelad,
Lõhkus katki kätki lauad,
Peasis kätkist põrandale
Käpakülle kõndimaie,
Roomaskülle rändamaie,
Roomas kuu, roomas kaksi,
Kolmandal ju kõndimaies,
Jalge jõudu kasvatamas.
Poega imes armupiima
Eide rinnal rohke'esta,
Kasvis leina lepitajaks,
Kurvastuse kustutajaks,
Pisarate pühkijaksa.
Eit oli poega imetanud
Armu kaisus aastat kolme,
Enne kui rinnalt võõrutas.
Poega venis poisikeseks,
Kasvis Kalevide pojaks,
Tõutas ettetähendusi,
Kadund isa kuulutusi
Igas tükis ilmutada;
Püüdis jõudu iga pääva,
Keha kangust kosutada.
Kalevide kallim poega
Linda leina lepitaja,
Kasvis karjapoisiliseks,
Kosus künnimeheliseks,
Tõusis tamme tugevuseks,
Tõutas ettetähendusi
Igas tükis ilmutada,
Püüdis jõudu iga pääva,
Keha kangust kosutada.
Mängis kurni murudela,
Viskas ratast vainuela;
Pani kurnid alla õue
Kahte paika hunnikussa,
Paiskas kaikil pealta õue
Kurnisida kõikumaie,
Saatis kurnid sõudemaie,
Üle vainu veeremaie,
Läbi kopli lendamaie!
Kurnid lendsid kauge'ele,
Puistasivad pilla-palla
Mööda metsi, mägesida,
Mööda laia lagedaida —
Mõned langsid laenetesse.
Kurnisida mõnes kohas
Tänapääval nähtavala:
Ühetasa ümargused,
Pikergused kaljupakud —
Neitsikivi nime alla:
Needap Kalevide kurnid.
Kalevide noorem poega
Laskis lingu silmuksesta
Kivisida lendamaie;
Loopis merepinnal lutsu,
Korjas kaldalt lutsukiva,
Paemurrust parajaida,
Mis ehk jalga laiusela,
Kolme jalga pikkusela,
Paari tolli paksusela.
Lutsukivid lendasivad
Laentepinnal lustiliste
Rohkem versta kaugusele.
Senni kui kivi sõudemas,
Kasvatas Kalevipoega
Tamme kõrge kalda peale.
Kalevide noorem poega
Mängis eide õue alla,
Kitkus noori kuuskesida,
Sirgel kasvul kaskesida,
Juurikuga tükis maasta:
Neist tegi saksa-saanikesi,
Kenu kassi-märsikesi.
Aasta sammud astusivad
Rutust' ajaradadela,
Kiirel teedel kaugemale.
Aastad sõudsid eide armul
Poisikese paadikese
Nooremehe mere peale.
Kalevide noorem kasvu
Kasvis mehena kõrguseks,
Venis vende vääraliseks,
Sirgus isa suuruseksa.
Nõnda kasvis eide õues
Lese Linda leinapõlves
Kullerkupu õilme ilul,
Taara tamme tugevusel
Viimne Kalevide võsu,
Kasvis kaljuks kindlusele,
Tõusis vendadest targemaks:
Tõutas ettetähendusi,
Kadund isa kuulutusi
Igas tükis ilmutada.
Lähätame laulu laened
Vasta pääva veeremaie,
Tõusu poole tuikumaie,
Koidu poole kõikumaie,
Lähme aja kiirel lennul
Tüki teeda tagasie.
Mis seal lese õue alla,
Vara enne valgeheta
Kaksipidi käidanessa,
Salamahti sõidetakse?
Kosilased käidanesid,
Salakuuljad sõitanesid
Kümme korda enne koitu,
Viiskümmend valge eela,
Sada korda suitsu aegul
Pärast taadi surmapääva
Kurba leske kiusamaies,
Nõukat naista püüdemaies.
Kui oli taati kolletanud,
Armud külmaksa hangunud,
Taadi veri tarretanud:
Siis oii nõukal lesenaisel
Kosilasi palju käinud,
Viied viinad, kuued kruusid,
Sada sala soovitajad,
Kakssada kauba sobitajad.
Need kõik eite vara pärast,
Rikast leske naudi pärast
Võrku püüdsid võrgutada,
Õnnekaubal õngitseda.
Eit aga mõistis, kostis vasta:
"Mina ei lähe mehele,
Kana ei teise kaasale,
Tedreke ei võta teista,
Pääsuke ei võõrast peigu,
Luige lesk ei seltsimeesta,
Tui ei teista taludela.
Armutunnid hangusivad,
Ilutunnid tarretasid
Külmaks kalmukünka alla."
Sest ep norkus noored mehed,
Sest ep kurvad kosilased;
Külm on võtnud kosjamõtted,
Välk on löönud lustimeeled,
Ei saa poisid pulmasida,
Tütarlapsed tantsisida.
Kui läks teiste kosjakäiki
Aegamööda raugemaie,
Lootus meestel lõppemaie,
Hakkas leske kiusamaie
Kosilase kihladega,
Võitma viinamärssidega
Soome tuuslar, tuuletarka.
See oli kaugelt sugulane
Kadund Kalevi-taadiga.
Ei aga kuulnud kurba leske
Peiu kulutud palvesi,
Ega pöörand peiu poole,
Meelt ei noore armu poole.
Tuuslar vandus, tuuletarka,
Tõutas põlgu tasuda:
"Külap tasun, eidekene,
Teisel korral tiutamise,
Omal ajal põlgamise,
Külap maksan naeru palga."
Leske Linda pidas naeruks
Tuuletarga ähvardused:
"Mis mul, tuuslar, tuuletarka,
Tühjast ähvardusest karta!
Pesas kolm veel kotkapoegi,
Kõvernokka kasvamaies,
Raudaküüsil tõusemaies!
Külap need eite kaitsevad,
Vana emada varjavad."
Aastad sõudsid, aastad jõudsid,
Sõudsid, jõudsid kiirusela;
Seal jäid soiku peiu-sõidud,
Kadusivad kosjakäigid:
Seal sai rahu ratsudele,
Rahu peiu ruunadele.
Kes oli korra õnne katsund,
Kosjas käinud Kalevissa,
See aga laulis sõbradele,
Veereteles vendadele:
"Hellakesed, vennakesed,
Ärge minge leske võtma,
Kalevi talust kosima!
Sel on suured sõlgerinnad,
Rahaskaelul rasked rinnad,
Hõbehelmed, raudahambad,
Tulisõnad keelepaelul.
Ärge minge leske võtma,
Kalevi talust kosima!
Kesse lustib rikast leske:
See toob koju ahjuhargi!
Tehke, mehed, teised laevad,
Paremad kosja paadikesed,
Pange peale siidipurjed,
Siidipurjed, poordiköied;
Pange laeva purjetama,
Saatke vanad sõudemaie!
Sõudke, vanad, jõudke, väetid,
Sõudke laeva Soomemaale,
Paati, uhket, Põhjamaale!
Seal on kõrgel kaljukaldal
Ridas palju neidusida:
Ees on ridas helmeskaelad,
Taga ridas taalderrinnad,
Sõrvil sõrmukse kandijad,
Pika paatrite pidajad,
Vahel aga ridas vaesed lapsed,
Keskel ridas kudruskaelad.
Sõtku maha sõlgisrinnad,
Heida maha helmeskaelad,
Talla maha taalderrinnad,
Sõida maha sõrmuskandjad,
Pilluta paatrite pidajad;
Võta vahelt vaeselapse,
Kudruskaela keske'elta:
Sest saab naista nastulikku,
Abikaasa kullakesta!
Ärge minge leske võtma,
Kalevi talust kosima!
Lesest ei saa noorikuda.
Lapsed kiskund lese rinnad:
Sõlg on tühja kaevu kaasi,
Hõbesild kuivand allikal.
Leske leinab kadund meesta,
Lese noormees noorikuda,
Ärge minge leske võtma!"

Source Colophon

The Estonian text of the Kalevipoeg is in the public domain. Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald (1803–1882) compiled this verse epic from Estonian oral tradition and folk songs, published 1857–1861. This digital text is sourced from the Project Gutenberg edition, preserving the first edition orthography.

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