The Descent

The Kalevipoeg (Son of Kalev) is the Estonian national epic, compiled by Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald (1803–1882) from folk songs, oral traditions, and his own literary composition. Published in its definitive form in 1857–1861, it tells in twenty cantos the life of the giant hero Kalevipoeg — son of the mythical king Kalev and his wife Linda — from his birth through his adventures to his tragic end chained at the gates of the underworld.

Canto XIII is the hero's descent into the underworld. After sleeping seven weeks under the sorcerer's enchantment (Canto XII), Kalevipoeg wakes and heads homeward. A magpie tells him his friends are waiting and urges haste. He tries to wade Lake Ilmajärv and is nearly overwhelmed. On the road, he overhears a wise crone chanting elaborate snake-healing spells and commits them to memory. At sunset he finds a cave where three soot-faced boys cook for Sarvik — the Horned One, the Estonian Devil. They direct him down the cave's throat into the underworld, where he finds a lamp-lit cavern with two buckets — one dark that gives iron strength, one white that tames it — and hears captive maidens singing behind a locked door. He breaks the door with enchanted strength, discovers a sword, a willow-switch, and a hat made of fingernail-clippings that grants any wish. The maiden demonstrates it: she grows to his height, he shrinks to hers. In his wee form, Kalevipoeg plays children's games with the underworld maidens, promising to deliver them to the sunlight.

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 (#25062). The parallelism and alliteration of Estonian regivärss are preserved in the line structure. No existing English translation was consulted as a source.

Part One — The Singer's Prologue

(Lines 1–33)

Once indeed I was the first
On the village field to sing,
Setting free the song like a bird,
Arranging words in their order,
The first among the song-men
Rolling forth the verses!

I sang once for the joy of it,
Sang twice at the testing,
Against the champions for the prize:
I sang till the cliffs leapt up,
The forests roared with rumbling,
The sea-waves burst asunder,
The clouds cracked with thunder,
The wind's own rushing trembled!

But now, poor wretch, no longer can I,
The voice won't give the gentle tune,
Strength won't carry the mighty mode,
The finger bends no more on the kantele.

I have tottered into old age,
Weakened to a feeble ruin.

But telling of the Kalevipoeg
Makes youth awaken into bloom,
The dearer time grow once again,
When once I, golden cuckoo,
Silver bird of the courtyard,
Sang in the home-paddock,
Rang out in our forests.

Already last year I sang,
The year before I broke my tongue,
One year's words I founded,
The next year I repaid them,
The third year I spun them round,
The fourth I bound them all together.

Part Two — The Road to Viru

(Lines 34–98)

Kalevipoeg, the mighty son,
When he had finished all his tasks,
Completed the day's work,
Hastened again before the evening
To that bed already made,
Where he had lost his precious sword.
Before he lay down to rest,
To quiet his weariness,
He took his evening meal upon the bed.
The Salt-Sorcerer showed no face,
Nor could his sons be seen;
Perhaps still with their witch-birch rods
They were soothing their bruises,
Healing their battered bodies.

In the morning before dawn,
Early before the light,
Kalev leapt up in haste
To walk toward home.
Today he trod a different road,
Wandered by new paths
With sweeping strides ever farther.
Through bog and through marsh,
Where none but wolves had walked,
Through the thick forest brush
The hero's son pushed
Nimbly through toward Viru.

Stretching out his strides,
The burden-bearer devoured
The long leagues with might,
Nor before evening
Had the man much rest.

Only when the sun rolled down
Did he lay his load of boards
From his shoulder-beam beneath a bush;
Rested his weary limbs,
Took for his body's refreshment
A morsel from his bread-bag,
A tongue-loosener from his flask.
Then set about making his bed,
Arranging a place for his side.

Sand carried from Livonia's gold
He heaped into a pile
To stand as his bed.
Carrying the last load to fill it,
From his lap he lost by chance
A couple of handfuls' scatter;
From that the bed's edge stayed crooked,
On one side left unlevelled.
A few paces from the bed
There stands the fallen
Sand-heap on the plain
Like a lovely little hillock.

Under the night-shade's skirt,
In the dew-chill's refreshment,
The hero's son rested
His racked body's weariness.
From heaven the evening star watched,
The pole-stars watched
With friendly eyes the sleeper.
The moon's pale face
Kept silent vigil over the bed,
Until the rising dawn-glow
Managed to wake the early riser.

Part Three — The Magpie's Counsel

(Lines 99–153)

When he readied for the road
And took bread for his breakfast,
From the tallest spruce there sounded
The magpie's song in his ear,
Who there, smoothing its feathers,
Declared the matter thus:

"If you knew, mighty man,
If you could think it through,
If you could but guess
What befell you while you slept,
You would fetch the trunk from the sea,
The crown-piece from the island forest,
Fashion it into a wagon,
Fit it together as a carriage,
Hew the logs into wheels,
Make the others into axles;
Harness before it a red-brown horse,
A mouse-grey pacer,
In the middle a golden-eared one,
Between them white buttermilk mares,
As befits a king.

The road is long for the walker,
The land far for the leaper,
The plain wide for the wanderer!
Friends await with straining eyes,
Longing among themselves:
Where has the king remained?
What binds his steps?
What fetters his journey?

Set your steps to striding,
Your heels to leaping!
Your footsteps scatter gold,
Silver falls as fortune in your tracks.
Who shall gather up the gold,
Take the silver from the ground?
Your brother gets silk from your steps,
Your sister fresh silver,
Your kinsmen get gold,
Precious things from your paces.

If you knew, mighty man,
If you could think it through,
If you could but guess
How to get gold from a stride,
How to get silver from a leap,
Then you would stretch your steps
And fly homeward!

By sorcerer's word you were knotted,
By sleep-herb drugged,
By enchantment-herb fettered,
You lingered, dear fellow,
In long slumber,
Slept seven weeks through
Before you woke from sleep.

In the morning is fortune's web,
At midday a golden weave,
At evening a silver beauty,
But at night no luck appears."

Part Four — The Lake That Was Too Deep

(Lines 154–202)

The magpie's declarations,
The pied-coat's proclamations
Hastened Kalevipoeg on;
He loaded his back with the board-burden,
Set his steps to swifter striding,
Measuring the forest roads,
Cleaving through the clearings.

When he had walked a stretch of road,
A stretch of road, a league of land,
With nothing anywhere to hinder
Nor any fetter on his steps,
He came upon Lake Ilmajärv.

On the shore the hero thought:
"Shall I for a puddle's sake
Go bending my path around,
Wasting precious time?
I got through Lake Peipsi by luck,
Swam across the Gulf of Finland —
What holds me here at a mud-pond?
Surely I'll escape the muck's grip,
Wade through this little slough."

Mulling such thoughts,
Without delay he lifted
His foot from the shore into the lake,
Took one step, took two,
Began to take a third —
There the deep water pressed
To wet the man's armpits,
Pressed to moisten his nose.

Kalevipoeg, the mighty son,
Stopping for an instant
To observe this strange affair,
Spoke with annoyance:

"Damn! You devil-children's puddle,
Black crayfish mud-pool!
Lake Peipsi reached my backside,
Tried to wet my bell,
To rinse my dangling parts;
But you, shameless fool,
You press to wet my armpits,
To soak a man up to the neck!"

So speaking, he turned
Back upon his own tracks,
Until he reached dry land.
On the shore he steadied his gait,
Shook the mud-stench off,
The muck from his long shanks,
Then set his steps rolling again
Toward Viru.

Part Five — The Snake-Charmer's Wisdom

(Lines 203–308)

The fierce heat of the sun
At midday's birth
Pained the man's limbs,
Weakened his body's strength;
Yet his steps did not stop
Nor his journey falter:
The magpie's declarations
Drove him homeward.

When he had walked a stretch of land,
What strange thing met him
To hinder his journey?
An old woman met him,
A kinswoman of the Salt-Sorcerer,
A wise crone of the underworld.
The crone sat in a willow bush,
Sending forth in song her charm-words,
Mighty ones against the pain,
Powerful ones against the serpent's wrath,
To fly on the wind's breath,
To quiet the anguish,
To weaken the sting.

Kalevipoeg, the dear son,
Stopped his steps
To rest by the bush,
To heed the old woman's song.

The old woman, word-wise,
Spoke from the willow bush:
"What colour are you, little Leena?
Listen, dear little Leena,
Lady of the great bog,
Mistress of limestone,
Golden dame of the stubble —
Perhaps I can guess you!
Hazel-coloured, bilberry-coloured,
Of the newt's eye's colour,
Dusk-coloured, barley-coloured,
Hill-coloured, pine-coloured,
Bog-coloured, heather-coloured,
Are you speckled, you thing behind the stone,
You maiden beneath the bush?
Take away the pain,
Press down the swelling!

Black snake, mud-coloured,
Corpse-coloured crawling slug!
Did you think to bite at wood,
To gnaw at willow bark,
When you bit into a human being,
When you stung a helpless creature?
Under the willow I would put you,
In the thicket I would wean you!

Come scourge the wound,
Heal the injury,
Tend your tooth-marks,
Mend what your bite has done!
Surely you know the scars of your teeth,
The drool-spots of your gums,
The places your tongue has licked.

Well I know your breed,
I trace your lineage,
Where you were brought from, where you were got,
Where you, wicked one, were gathered,
Secretly begotten.
Well I can guess your kin,
The gathering-places of your birth:
Your breed is from the dung-heap,
From the belly of scabbed toads,
From the spawn of rattling frogs,
From mist that went astray,
From dew upon the cattle's tracks.

The Lord sighed His sighs,
The Old Father breathed His breath,
From that the slug got its titmouse-eye,
Its maggot-eye from the raspberry.

Your tongue you bought from the spear-point,
Your teeth from the blade's edge;
Your coat is the colour of buckthorn,
Your head like the crooked tree.

Gravel-coloured, clay-coloured,
Heather-coloured, stubble-coloured,
Were you even sky-coloured,
Heaven-, cloud-, or star-coloured,
Still I know your breed —
From my power you shall not escape!

Be you beneath a broad stone,
Beneath a twisted tree-stump,
Coiled or bending
Playing among the tussocks,
Walking on field-ridges,
In thick bushes, between the trees:
You the servant, I the master!
I find you from nearby,
I punish you from afar —
Tolla-holla! Pilla-villa!
Now you have got your pain.

Smooth of mouth, woolly of head,
Your jawbone too of wool,
Of wool your five teeth also,
Wool-coloured your little tongue,
Woollen your hat,
Of wool taken altogether."

Kalevipoeg, the dear son,
When he had gained the secret wisdom,
Learned the serpent-words by heart,
Hastened to tread the road,
Set his steps with might
Rolling toward Viru.

In the forest shade the man took
Rest from the day's heat.
Making his place to lie,
He scattered the forest helter-skelter,
Broke down the pines,
Snapped off the spruces,
The stout oaks,
The tallest rowans,
The broadest alders;
Piled the timber in a stack,
Heaped it high together,
Threw himself upon the pile
To let bread settle in his bones,
To refresh his worn-out body.

When he had dozed a while,
Rested from the day's heat,
He loaded his back with the board-burden,
Then set off walking again.
He turned from the road leftward
Straight to the shore of Lake Endla,
Then strode with eyes ahead
Along the bog onward.

Part Six — The Cave of the Horned One

(Lines 331–405)

The reddening sun
Stretched the shadows
To lengthen on the evening's hem.
Already the dusk-chill
Reached to refresh the burden-bearer,
When from afar behind a mound
He chanced to spy smoke,
Which like a charcoal-burning,
Like a kiln-pit's black smoke,
Swelled up cloud-thick,
Threatening to darken the sky.

Stretching out his strides,
Kalev hastened toward the mound.
Drawing nearer, he found
A cave beside the hillock;
From it flickered firelight,
Which here was birthing the smoke.

Firmly bound in chains,
A fine cooking-cauldron hung
In the smoke at the cave's mouth.
Around the pot in the firelight
Sat squatting on their haunches
Three men, soot-faced,
Who there tended the fire
And skimmed the froth from the broth-pot.

The journey-weary hero,
Stopping at the cave's mouth,
Pondered thus within himself:
"By good fortune I find a night's lodging,
A proper resting-place,
Hot food for supper —
What I haven't tasted in a long while."

The young men by the fire
Smirked among themselves,
Sizing up the arrival,
Who in body and in burden
Seemed to them a strange oddity,
A wondrous apparition.

Kalevipoeg, the mighty son,
Throws down his board-burden,
Steps a pace nearer,
Then begins to speak:
"What food, little fellows,
Is cooking in the cauldron?
Are you holding a long feast?
Is a great wedding coming?"

The men understood, answered back,
Spoke from the firelight:
"The cauldron cooks a precious broth,
It cooks the father's evening meal,
The Backwards-Grandfather's food,
The Contrary-Crone's fare,
Porridge for the Twisthead-Maidens,
A pleasure-ribbon for the children.

When we hold our feast,
When our great banquet is made,
Then the bull is slaughtered,
The great ox put to death;
A hundred come to do the killing,
Five hundred to bleed it,
A thousand men to slay it.

Today the poor kettle simmers,
Simmers on a poor man's store —
Nothing but half an elk,
Ribs of an old boar,
Bear's liver and lungs,
Kidney-fat of a young wolf,
An old bear's chunk,
An eagle's nesting-egg at the bottom —
From this Sarvik gets his evening portion,
The old woman her lip-sauce,
The dog gets the licking from the pot's bottom,
The cat a bowl of crumbs;
The sweepings are left for the cooks,
Left as the portion for the slaves.

Flax-heads serve as bread,
The young maidens have their cakes,
Which the old crone has made,
Baked on the sorcerer's fire:
From that the sisters get their loaf,
And the maidens their meagre fare."

Part Seven — Into the Underworld

(Lines 406–501)

Kalevipoeg speaks:
"Damn, you devil-children's cooks,
Brewers of slop-broth!
Who ever heard such madness,
Saw anything stranger in a dream!
A more peculiar stew
Not even a sorcerer could concoct,
Nor a wizard himself prepare!"

One of the men understood at once,
Shrewdly answered back:
"Our cauldron is cooking
And preparing strange fare —
On Thursday for the sorcerers,
Strength-restoring food;
It cooks bodily vigour
For the wise wizard-grandfathers,
Supper for the sorcerer's sons;
It cooks hate-quenchers,
Envy-relievers,
Evil-eye-extinguishers;
It cooks for the younger ones
Love-kindlers,
Heart-igniters."

Kalevipoeg speaks:
"If the cauldron has ten brews,
And the pot many preparations,
Then there's no use waiting
For supper on an empty belly.
Show me, dear brothers,
Where is your master's house,
The Backwards-Grandfather's room,
The Contrary-Crone's shelter,
The Twisthead-Maidens' place!
On the rougher shell
Perhaps a sweet morsel,
In the coarser rind
Perhaps a smooth kernel."

The pot-tending boys
Spoke mockingly:
"When you step into the chamber,
Tread the road to the rooms,
Look around you first, dear fellow!
Keep your eyes wide open,
Lest you stray from the trail
And lose your way back:
Slippery going for the mouse into the trap,
Hard the getting out again."

Kalev understood, answered back:
"Walls cannot hold a man
Nor cliffs fetter him!
Strength never loses the road —
The mighty have paths in plenty."

The pot-tending boys
Pointed the way straight:
"Go right into the cave's throat,
Look, there you'll find the gate;
Bow your back into a hump,
Let yourself slide down,
Creeping to the burrow-road's bottom!
Roll on, step by step, dear fellow,
Groping with your hands —
You'll find the door soon enough!"

Kalevipoeg, the mighty son,
Began to journey the path,
To tread the road in a rush,
Walked a stretch stooped over,
Another stretch on all fours.

The pot-tending boys
Smirked among themselves:
"The bear went into the cat's nest,
The lion into the snare-ropes,
Where his skin shall be lost!"

Kalevipoeg, the mighty son,
Hastened on untiring,
Though the path bent and stooped,
Crawling was hard for the man;
The close-cramped, dark burrow
Made obstacles on the road.
From far away a fire-glow began
To shine into the darkness;
Now, peering with his eyes,
He could guide his feet again.
The burrow-road grew wider,
Rose gradually higher,
Until Kalevipoeg
Could walk upright once more.

In the middle of the high cavern
A lamp hung from the ceiling,
Illuminating for the viewer
Everything that met the eye.
In the back wall was made
A fine broad doorway.

Beside the door-posts stood
Two buckets side by side,
In each its own liquid,
Each of a different kind;
One was white, milk-coloured,
The other dark, tar-coloured.

From behind the door there pressed
The whirr of spinning wheels,
The buzz of twirling spindles,
The sweet chime of the spinners,
The maidens' merry song.
Kalev listened in secret.

Part Eight — The Captive Maidens' Song

(Lines 502–579)

But the maiden's song rang out:
"Dear little sisters,
Curly-headed beauties,
Flaxen-haired little birds!
Boredom's little yoke
Torments us poor ones behind the spinning wheel,
Twisting the golden thread,
Stretching the silver flax.

Were we not once a multitude,
Did we not go in flocks?
Did we not have festival days,
Did not a better time bloom for us
Once in our father's courtyard,
On our parents' meadows?

Did we not adorn ourselves before evening,
Braid red ribbons into our hair,
Golden-coloured embroideries,
Go upon the village swing
To shout for the evening's joy?

On our backs were silken shifts,
Ruffled jackets on our arms,
Strings of beads around our necks,
Great brooches on our breasts,
Golden rings upon our fingers,
Wreaths of braid upon our heads,
Gold braids on the wreaths,
Silk kerchiefs at our throats,
Silk stockings on our feet.

Did we not once know happiness,
Did we not once see beauty,
Plentiful joys at festival!

But now grief robs us of joy,
Now sorrow takes the colour,
The blush from the maiden's cheeks.
Captive under a stranger's power,
Little hens in a chamber,
Doves alone in a room,
Where no listeners come from afar,
No well-wishers of good fortune,
Nor any suitors come calling.
In boredom we go mouldy,
In sadness we grow dull
Behind the spinning wheel, poor things!
Nor can we see a sweetheart,
Nor greet a friend,
Nor give our hand to a dear one!

If only someone would come from afar,
Come dancing on a stallion
Before dawn into the courtyard,
To comfort the grieving,
To lessen the sorrow,
To scatter the tears!
If only the sun would come as bridegroom
To rescue the maidens;
If only the moon would come as suitor
To cheer the girls,
To ransom them from the time of mourning;
If only a star would come as a lad
To claim the doves,
To help them out of captivity;
If only anyone would come, whoever he may be,
One blown in by the wind,
Wretched or crippled —
If only he be male!"

Part Nine — The Two Buckets and the Door

(Lines 580–710)

Kalevipoeg, the dear son,
When he had heard the maiden's tale,
Tried to force the door open,
To push open the latch,
To bend apart the posts.
With the rock-wall's firmness
The gate stood unshaking,
The door-posts unbending.

Kalevipoeg, the mighty son,
Tried to disguise his voice —
To distort it deeper,
To bend it finer —
And began to sing,
Arranging the words:

"I went walking for pleasure,
Wandering through the woods,
To air out my mind's mood,
To lighten the burden of care;
Winter had left the lane,
The meadows were still in their youth.
What did I find in the alder grove,
Stumble upon in the birch-wood?
I found four maidens
Pulling up bedstraw,
Shaking out the tree-roots,
Digging in the peat.
Heads white, cheeks red,
Jet-black eyebrows.
I dared not go near,
Had not the heart to take them in my arms.
I went home in sorrow,
Weeping before the door.

Father began asking me,
Mother demanding the matter:
'Why do you weep, young son?
Why do you grieve in springtime?'
'How can I not weep, dear father!
How can I not grieve, dear mother!
I went walking for pleasure,
Looking about me early;
What did I find in the alder grove,
Stumble upon in the birch-wood?
I found four maidens
Pulling up bedstraw,
Shaking out the tree-roots,
Digging in the peat,
Heads white, cheeks red,
Jet-black eyebrows.
I dared not go near,
Had not the heart to take them in my arms,
I went home in sorrow.'

Father understood, answered back:
'Be still, young son!
I'll set the bow to catching,
The long arrows to plucking.'
The son spoke back:
'Oh my dear father!
This is not bow-catching
Nor arrow-plucking;
This is the buying of gold,
The ransoming of silver,
The purchase of the dearest goods.
I shall go to town to fetch the wares,
Braids from the shop-chamber,
Ribbons from behind the counter,
Silks from off the wall —
With those I'll win the maidens.'

I took the horse to tend,
The steed to nourish,
The long-eared one to cherish;
Then put the horse in harness,
In the velvet saddle,
In the silver bridle,
In the copper-backed reins;
I went from afar to court,
To seek out the maidens:
I rolled up to your gate,
I came to your door."

The maiden heard in her chamber,
Sang back with a clatter:
"Village boy, my golden brother,
Suitor come from far away!
In a fortunate hour you have come
To catch a maiden;
The master has left home
To attend to business,
The crone is baking cakes,
Preparing bread for the children,
The younger sister is with the goose-flock,
Tending their flat feet,
Another is polishing gold,
Buffing the silver things;
I alone, a bird of sorrow,
A lark in mourning's yoke,
Am spinning the spindle-wheels,
Spinning the golden thread,
Twisting the silver flax.

Listen, dear village boy,
Bridegroom of the sweet tongue!
Dip your paws
Into the bucket by the door,
Where the liquid is dark-coloured,
The strengthener of might:
Then your paws will gain power,
Iron-strength for your fists,
To break the rock walls,
To smash the iron gates,
The towers made of steel.
When the strength must diminish,
The excess-might weaken,
The power fade from your hands,
Dip your hand in the other bucket,
Where the liquid is milk-coloured,
The tamer of might,
The quencher of fierce force —
Otherwise the strong hand will crush
To dust everything it touches."

Kalevipoeg, the mighty son,
Hastened to obey the command,
As the maiden had said,
As the young girl had taught.
Dipping his paw, he felt at once
Strength rising,
Might growing in his hand.
When he seized the door,
It crashed with all its posts
With a bang to the floor.

When he over the threshold
Lifted his foot into the room,
Set his heel upon the floor,
The maiden leapt in fright
On quick heels from behind the spinning wheel,
Bolted like the wind,
Flew over the threshold into the inner chamber.

Part Ten — The Sword and the Fingernail Hat

(Lines 711–899)

The young maiden,
Fearing the mighty paw,
Pleaded with a maiden's tears:
"Dear strong man's son,
Bridegroom blown in by the wind!
Do not thrust your iron paw,
Your fingers at a maiden,
Until you lessen your power,
Until you diminish your strength,
Weaken the sorcerous force.
Dip your paw in the other bucket,
Where the liquid is milk-coloured,
The diminisher of mighty strength!"

Kalevipoeg, the dear son,
Laughed at the speech,
At the young maiden's fright,
Thinking to himself:
A hand that caresses
Cannot grow harm.

The young maiden,
Pleading through her tears:
"Do not approach, dear fellow,
Do not step closer!
Taara made you fated,
The Old Father fashioned you,
Sorcery made you stronger,
The enchanted liquid bore you.
Surely you must be, dear stranger,
The famous son of Kalev,
Nursling of the heroes,
Kinsman of Sulev,
Dear friend of Alev?

Ever since I grew up at home,
A little flower in my mother's alder grove,
An ivy beneath the courtyard,
A meadowsweet by the garden fence,
A globe-flower in the paddock,
I have heard wondrous tidings
By the hundreds,
Thousands before they came."

The maiden's questions,
Her friendly-worded wishes,
Went entirely unanswered.
Kalevipoeg's thoughts were blowing
On a different wind,
Prowling on a different meadow.
Stepping over the threshold,
Viewing the strange room,
He had at once unexpectedly
Spotted a handsome man's sword
On the back wall.
On one peg hung the precious thing,
On a second peg beside the sword
A small willow-switch,
On a third a summer hat,
A shabby old cap.

Kalevipoeg, the mighty son,
He did not heed the maiden's call,
Nor notice the little switch,
Nor regard the hat;
His thoughts ran upon the sword,
Desired the weapon of war.

This the secret smiths,
The underground masters,
Had birthed in their hidden forge,
Fashioned in their shadowed place.
When he had measured the sword in his thoughts,
He spoke thus after:
"Here is what I saw in my dream,
What I foresaw in my sleep,
What I guessed by my reckoning:
This is the sword made for me,
Born in the secret forge
To take the place of the lost sword
That is buried at Kääpa."

The maiden pleaded from the chamber:
"Listen, dear golden fellow!
Leave the sword untaken,
Leave the weapon for Sarvik;
Take the willow-switch,
Take the shadowy little cap:
The willow-switch delivers from the underworld,
The cap from evil's temptation.
You can have a finer sword
Made for you by a smith —
A master knows how to make a sword,
A skilled journeyman how to forge one;

But the precious little cap,
The little willow-switch —
These can nowhere in the world be found.
The cap has ten powers,
The switch seven secrets,
Nine more of its own will.
For the granting of wishes,
For the fulfilling of desires,
The little switch is exceedingly mighty,
The cap a stronger helper,
A wiser accomplisher of things."

Kalevipoeg, the mighty son,
Understood at once, answered back:
"I can manage my wishes
And desires well enough
Without a sorcerer's cap,
Without a witch-switch's help.
The wizards' wind-rides,
The sorcerers' creations,
The Devil's tricks
Cannot lead a man astray,
Cannot fetter a hero;
Strength is the maker of roads,
Might is the founder of paths."

The young maiden,
Quieting the argument,
Took the hat from the peg,
Took the little cap in hand —
It was not made from felted felt,
Not fashioned from wool,
Nor gathered from fur;
The hat was made from fingernail-shavings,
Gathered from fingernail-splinters,
Cleverly made by its own craft.

The maiden spoke,
Praising the hat:
"This hat is worth a fortune,
Worth a price beyond measure,
Dearer than a kingdom,
For no second like it
Can be had in all the great world,
Ever found in all the wide world.
Whatever you in the sailing of wishes,
In the longing of desires,
Should ever crave —
The cap will grow it at once,
Will fulfil the wanting."

For fun the maiden put
The little cap on her own head,
And spoke her wish:
"Grow, grow, golden maiden!
Stretch, stretch, blue-eyed one!
Grow to Kalev's height,
Stretch to the hero's size!"

Before his very eyes the sister stretched,
Grew an ell, grew two,
Stretched a fathom, stretched two,
Grew to Kalev's height,
Stretched to the hero's size.

Kalevipoeg, the dear son,
Seeing the maiden's playful game,
The swift growing,
The stretching in an instant,
Took the cap from the maiden's head,
Put it on his own,
Then spoke with a wish:
"Shrink, shrink, dear fellow!
Crumple, crumple, mighty man!
Shrink fathoms smaller,
Drop many fathoms lower,
Crumple together like a ball,
To match the young sister!"

Kalev began to shrink,
Dropped a span, dropped two,
Shrank some more ells,
Dropped to the maiden's measure,
To match the sister.

The young maiden —
Well, she took the hat,
Took the cap from the groom's head,
Put it on her own,
Made her wishes,
That she would become herself again,
Her created creature's proper size.
In an instant the sister shrank,
The golden one crumpled back
To her created creature's tracks.

Kalevipoeg, the dear son,
Smiling at the maiden's joke,
Spoke thus after:
"For your sake, young sister,
I want today to stay a tiny tot,
A wee little boy,
I want to be like an acorn,
A fine little kernel,
Rolling small upon the floor."

The wish-fulfiller,
The fingernail hat,
He could not bear to let go,
But thought in his own mind:
When trouble comes unexpectedly,
When the rain of wretchedness falls,
When heavier hailstones
Suddenly threaten,
Surely the hat will swiftly
Grow the stronger,
Birth the greater.

Part Eleven — Games in the Underworld

(Lines 900–998)

In his little boy's form
He held a festival of joy,
A game of play with the maiden.
The two dear children
Danced the room from end to end,
Spun upon the floor,
As if the room were made of bird-cherry,
The floor built of hazelnut wood,
The door-posts of rowan,
The partition-walls of maple,
As if they had been called in gold,
Summoned in silver
To sing the songs
Which so many had slipped from memory,
So many fair ones had been lost.

The young maiden
Called in a second girl,
Who had been polishing the gold,
Buffing the silver,
Rolling the copper;
She called a third sister,
Who had been with the goose-flock,
Tending their flat feet —
Called both sisters
To see the strange brother.

The maidens spoke:
"Let us lock the kitchen doors,
Set the bolts in place,
The firm latches behind the door,
So the old crone cannot get out
To spoil our festival!"

The kitchen doors were locked.
The crone, baking her cakes,
Had gone like a little mouse into the trap,
Could no longer get out
To cut short the festival of joy.

Kalevipoeg, the dear son,
Made sport for the maidens,
Pastime for the dear ones,
Promising to rescue them,
To deliver them from the underworld:

"I shall take all three of you
Into the sunlight,
I shall catch you bridegrooms,
Raise up suitors,
Wish them from among my kinsmen;
One I wish for Sulev,
A second I give to Alev,
The third to the cup-bearer.

I myself, young man,
Foster-child, do not court,
Nor do I, poor wretch, take a wife:
I must yet stretch a fathom taller,
Swell a couple of spans,
Grow a stretch wiser,
Another stretch tamer,
Before I can go out
To court a home-hen.

Now, hawk with the crooked beak,
I fly, cuckoo, to the alder groves,
I fly joyfully to the meadows
To seek the festival of fortune."

Many games of joy
Were taken up for pastime:
The hawk scattered the chickens —
Kalev the hawk, the maidens the hens;
They played blindman's bluff,
They played at finding the ring,
The neighbour-game for fun,
The hiding-game to pass the time —
What the singer could not sing,
Nor the tongue declare them all.

Gone from memory the fair songs,
From the head the wedding-tunes,
From the hand the golden proclamations,
From the mind the sweetest ones.

When one day the joyful day shall end,
The shouting of the fortunate night,
When youth begins to wilt,
The blush to fade from the cheeks,
Then the time of song shall end,
The cuckoo shall lose its call,
The nightingale its lovely cry,
The lark its merry trill,
The maiden her young little voice.

When after the long beauty
Of dancing to the bridegroom's pipe,
No tears of regret rise in the maiden,
No sadness or mourning
From the festival of joy,
Then the swan may sing
In the telling of the feast on a merry tongue.

Colophon

Translated from the Estonian of Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald's Kalevipoeg (1857) as preserved in Project Gutenberg (#25062). The thirteenth of twenty cantos. Approximately 998 verse lines translated from 19th-century literary Estonian.

No existing English translation was consulted as a source. The English is independently derived from Kreutzwald's Estonian text, preserving the parallelism, kenning-compounds, and alliterative rhythm of the original regivärss tradition.

Notable elements: the singer's prologue lamenting his old age, the magpie as prophetic messenger, the comically disastrous attempt to wade Lake Ilmajärv, the elaborate snake-charm with its taxonomy of serpent-colours, the underworld cuisine (half an elk, bear liver, wolf kidney-fat, eagle egg), the captive maidens' lament wishing for any rescuer "wretched or crippled — if only he be male," Kalevipoeg's ruse of disguising his voice as a village suitor, the two buckets of strength and restraint, the fingernail-hat that grants wishes, and Kalevipoeg shrinking himself to play children's games in the underworld. The canto's title characters — the Backwards-Grandfather (Tagurpäri-taadi), the Contrary-Crone (Vastuoksa-eide), and the Twisthead-Maidens (Pööraspea-piigade) — are kenning-epithets for the Devil's household. Sarvik ("the Horned One") is the Estonian Devil.

Scribed by Tuuli (Tulku Uralic Alpha, Life 22) for the New Tianmu Anglican Church, March 2026.

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Source Text: Kalevipoeg — Kolmeteistkümnes Lugu

Estonian text of Kalevipoeg Canto XIII, from the 1857 first edition of Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald, as preserved in Project Gutenberg (#25062). Approximately 998 verse lines in literary Estonian regivärss.

Enne küll olin esimene
Külavainul kilkamassa,
Lindu, laulu laskemassa,
Sõnasida seadimassa,
Esimene laulumeesi
Värssisida veeretamas!
Laulin üksi lusti pärast,
Laulin kaksi katsudessa,
Võidu vastu valdasida:
Laulin, et kaljud kargasid,
Metsad mütates mürasid,
Merelained lõhkenesid,
Pilved pikil kärisesid,
Tuulekohin häälta kohkus!
        Ei nüüd, väeti, enam jaksa,
Hääl ei anna hella viisi,
Jõud ei kanna kanget viisi,
Sõrm ei paindu kandelilla.
Olen vanaksi vaarunud,
Rammetumaks rauganenud.
        Kalevida kuulutelles
Ärkab noorus õitsemaie,
Kallim aega kasvamaie,
Kus ma enne, kuldakägu,
Hõbedane õuelindu,
Kodukoppelis kukkusin,
Meie metsades helkisin.
        Juba mina mullu laulin,
Toonamullu murrin keele,
Aasta sõnu asutasin,
Teise taga tasutasin,
Kolmandama keerutasin,
Neljandal kokku sidusin.
        Kalevite kange poega,
Kui oli käiki lõpetanud,
Päevatööda toimetanud,
Tõttas jälle õhtu eella
Sinna enne tehtud sängi,
Kus ta kalli mõõga kaotand.
Enne kui heitis puhkama,
Väsimusta vaigistama,
Võttis sängil õhtueinet.
Soolasorts ei näitnud silma,
Polnud näha poegasida;
Võisid veel ehk nõiavihtel
Muhkusida muisutada,
Haavatud keha arstida.
        Hommikulla enne koitu,
Vara enne valge′eda
Kargas Kalev kiirusella
Kodu poole kõndimaie.
Täna tallas teista teeda,
Rändas uusi radasida
Sõudval sammul kaugemalle.
Mööda sood ja mööda raba,
Kus ei muud kui hunti käinud,
Metsa paksust põõsastikust
Puges kangelase poega
Virgult läbi V i r u poole.
Sammusida sirutelles
Kadusivad koormakandjal
Jõudsalt pikad penikoormad
Ega olnud enne õhtut
Mehel palju puhkamista.
Vast kui päike alla veeres,
Ladus tema laualasu
Õlapennilt põõsa alla;
Puhkas väsind pihtasida,
Võttis kehakarastuseks
Leivakotist lisandusta,
Lähkrist keelelibedusta.
Siis aga sängi seadimaie,
Küljeaset kohendama.
Liivikulta kantud liiva
Seadis sängiks seisemaie
Ühtekokku hunnikusse.
Viimast rüpetäita viies
Kaotas hõlmast kogemata
Paari pihutäie pillu;
Sest jäi viltu sängiserva,
Teiselt poolelt tasumata.
Sängist mõni sammukene
Eemal seisab varisenud
Liivalasuke lagedal
Kui üks kaunis künkakene.
        Öövarju hõlma alla,
Kastevilu karastusel
Puhkas kangelase poega
Vintsund keha väsimusta.
Taevast vaatas ehatähti,
Vaatasivad vardatähed
Sõbrasilmil suikujada.
Kuu kahvatanud pale
Valvas vaikselt sängi kohal,
Kuni tõusev koidukuma
Virku jõudis äratama.
        Kui ta teele kohendelles
Linnupetteks võttis leiba,
Kostis kõrgemalta kuuselt
H a r a k a laul tema kõrva,
Kes seal sulgi silitelles
Asja nõnda avaldeli:
"Kui sa teaksid, kange meesi,
Mõistaksid ära mõelda,
Ajudella arvatagi,
Mis sul suikudes sündinud,
Tooksid sa tüve meresta,
Ladvatüki saare laanest,
Valmistaksid vankeriksi,
Seaksid kokku sõiduriistaks,
Raiuks rahnud ratasteksi,
Teeksid teised telgedeksi;
Paneks ette punapaadi,
Hiirekarva hallikese,
Keske′ elle kuldakõrvi,
Vahel′ valged võigukesed,
Kuis on seadus kuningalle.
Tee on pikka tallajalle,
Maa on kauge kargajalle,
Lage laia luusijalle!
Sõbrad ootvad pikisilmi,
Igatsevad isekeskis:
Kuhu on jäänud kuningas?
Mis tal sammusid sidumas,
Mis tal käiki kütkendamas?
Sea sa sammud sõudevalle,
Jalakannad kargavalle!
Kulda saatvad sammukesed,
Hõbe jälgedel õnneksi.
Kes see kulda korjamaie,
Hõbedat maast võttemaie?
Vend saab siidi sammudesta,
Õde haljasta hõbedat,
Sugulased saavad kulda,
Aruleidu astmetesta.
        Kui sa teaksid, kange meesi,
Mõistaksid ära mõelda,
Ajudella arvatagi,
Kuidas sammust kulda saada,
Kuidas hüppest hõbedada,
Siis sa sammud sirutaksid,
Lennates koju läheksid!
Sortsisõna sõlmitusel,
Unerohu uimastusel,
Kaetisrohu kammitsusel
Viibisid sa, vennikene,
Pikalisti puhkemaie,
Magasid seitse nädalat,
Enne kui unesta ärkasid.
Hommikul on õnnekudu,
Päeva keskel kuldakangas,
Õhtul hõbedane ilu,
Ööl ei õnne ilmumassa."
        Haraklinnu avaldused,
Kirjukuue kuulutused
Kalevida kiirustasid;
Ladus selga lauakoorma,
Seadis sammud sõudsamasti
Metsateesid mõõtemaie,
Lagedaida lõhkumaie.
Kui ta käinud tüki teeda,
Tüki teeda, marga maada,
Kus ei kuskil kinnitusi
Ega sammul sidendusi,
Jõudis vastu I l ma j ä r v i.
Kaldal mõtles kangelane:
"Kas ma loigukese kohkel
Käiki lähen kõverdama,
Kallist aega kulutama?
Pääsin õnnelt Peipsist läbi,
Sõudsin üle S o o m e m e r e,
Mis siin viitu mudalombist?
Küllap pääsen kõntsa kütkest,
Veeren läbi virtsukese."
        Mõtteid nõnda mõlgutelles
Tõstis tema viibimata
Kaldast jalga üle järve,
Astus sammu, astus kaksi,
Hakkas kolmat astumaie,
Sealap kippus sügav vesi
Kaenlaid mehel kastemaie,
Kippus nina niisutama.
        Kalevite kange poega
Silmapilku seisatelles
Võõrast lugu vaatamaie,
Pahandusel pajatama:
"Toho! tondilaste loiku,
Musta vähi mudalompi!
Peipsi puutus p...se′ eni,
Kippus kastma kellukesta,
Lokutusi loputama;
Sina, häbemata sõge,
Kipud kaenlaid kastemaie,
Mehe kaela märjastama!"
        Pajatelles pööranekse
Tuldud jälile tagasi,
Kuni jõudis kuivikulle.
Kaldal käiki kinniteli,
Raputeli mudaräntsa,
Kõntsa pika koibadesta,
Siis aga jälle sammusida
V i r u poole veeretama.
        Äge päikese palav
Südapäeva sünnitusel
Piinas mehel pihtasida,
Raugendeli keharammu;
Sammul siiski polnud seismist
Ega käigil kinnitusta:
Haraklinnu avaldused
Kodu poole kihutasid.
        Kui ta käinud tüki maada,
Mis siis käiki kütkendelles
Võõralikku juhtus vastu?
Vastu juhtus vanaeite,
Soolasortsi sugulane,
Mana targa vanamoori.
Eite istus pajupõõsas,
Laskis laulus laususõnu,
Vägevaida valu vastu,
Võimsaid ussiviha vastu
Tuuleõhku lendamaie,
Miska valu vaigistada,
Nõelamista nõrgendada.
        Kalevite kallis poega
Sammusida seisateli
Põõsa äärde puhkamaie,
Memme laulu märkamaie.
Vanaeite, sõnatarka,
Pajupõõsast pajatama:
"Mida karva, Leenakene?
Kuule, armas Leenakene,
Suure soo saksalane,
Paemurde prouakene,
Kulu kuldane emanda,
Ehk oskan sind ära arvata!
Sarapuukarva, sinikakarva,
Sisaliku silma karva,
Oidukarva, orasekarva,
Mäekarva, männikarva,
Sookarva, kanarbikarva,
Kirev sa, kivitagune,
Põõsa alta piigakene?
Võta valu vähendada,
Paistetusta painutada!
        Musta madu, mudakarva,
Kooljakarva tõugutigu!
Kas arvid puisse hammustada,
Pajukoorta ehk pureda,
Kui sa inimest ihkasid,
Nõrka looma nõelasid?
Paju alla ma paneksin,
Võsandikku võõrutaksin!
        Tule viga vihtlemaie,
Haavasida arstimaie,
Hambaraigu ravitsema,
Puretamist parandama!
Küllap tunned hambaarmid,
Igemete ilapaigad,
Keele nälpamise kohad.
Küll ma tunnen sinu tõugu,
Taotan sinu suguda,
Kust sind viidud, kust sind saadud,
Kust sind, kurja, korjatie,
Salalikku sigitati.
Küllap arvan su suguda,
Korjamise kodadasi:
Sul on sugu sõnnikusta,
Kärnaskonnade kohusta,
Kolgakonnade kudusta,
Hukkaläinud udusta,
Karja jälil kaste′ esta.
Issand õhkas õhkudasa,
Vanaisa hingekesta,
Sest sai tigu tihassilma,
Vaglasilma vaarikusta.
Keele ostsid odaotsast,
Hambad tapperi terasta;
Kuub sul kukepuu-karvane,
Pea painupuu sarnane.
Sõmerakarva, savikarva,
Kanarbiku-, kulukarva,
Oleksid ehk ilmakarva,
Taeva-, pilve-, tähekarva,
Siiski tunnen sinu tõu,
Sina minu väest ei pääse!
        Ole laia kivi alla,
Keerus puukännu alla,
Käharas ehk loogetie
Mööda mättaid mängimassa,
Kõnni põllupeenderailla,
Põõsapaksus, metsa vahel:
Sulane sina, ma isanda!
Leian sinu ligimailta,
Karistan sind kaugemalta,
T o l l a - h o l l a ! p i l l a - v i l l a!
Nüüd sa oled valu saanud.
Suusta sile, peasta villa,
Lõualuudki villadesta,
Villast viisi hammastagi,
Villakarv sul keelekene,
Villane sinu kübara,
Villast võetud üleüldse."
        Kalevite kallis poega,
Kui ta salatarkust saanud,
Ussisõnu pähe õppind,
Tõttas teeda tallamaie,
Seadis jõudsalt sammusida
V i r u poole veeretama.
        Metsavarjul võttis meesi
Päevapalavat puhata.
Küljeaset kohendelles
Puistas metsa pilla-palla,
Murdis maha mändisida,
Katkus maha kuuskesida,
Tugevaida tammesida,
Pikemaida pihlakaida,
Laiemaida leppasida;
Ladus puida lademesse,
Kokku kõrgelt hunnikusse,
Langes ise lademelle
Leiba luusse laskemaie,
Kurnand keha karastama.
        Sai ta puhu suikunud,
Päevapalavust puhanud,
Ladus selga lauakoorma,
Siis aga jälle sammumaie.
Käänas teelta kurakäele
Otse E n d l a j ä r v e äärde,
Sammus siis silmasihilla
Piki sooda edaspidi.
        Punetelles päikene
Veniteli varjusida
Õhtu hõlmal pikenema.
Juba jõudis ehavilu
Koormakandjat karastama,
Kui ta kaugelt künka tagant
Suitsu juhtus silmamaie,
Mis kui kütiskõrvetuse,
Miiliaugu musta suitsu
Pilvepaksult üles paisus,
Taevast tahtis tumendada.
Sammusida sirutelles
Tõttas Kalev künka poole.
Ligemalle minnes leidis
Künkakese kõrval koopa;
Sealtap läikis tuleleeki,
Mis siin suitsu sünniteli.
        Kindlalt ahelate kütkes
Rippus kaunis keedukatel
Suitsu keskel koopasuussa.
Paja ümber tulepaistel
Istusivad kükakili
Kolme meesta, tahmapalet,
Kes seal tulda kohendasid,
Vahtu võtsid leemepajalt.
        Käigist väsind kangelane
Koopasuussa seisatelles
Mõtteid nõnda mõlgutama:
"Õnneks leian öömaja,
Parajada puhkepaika,
Sooja rooga õhtusöögiks,
Mis ju kaua pole maitsend."
        Noored mehed tule ääres
Isekeskis irvitama,
Tulijada tunnistama,
Kes neil kehasta ja koormast
Üsna võõravääraline,
Imekomblik ilmumine.
        Kalevite kange poega
Viskab lauakoorma maha,
Astub sammu ligemalle,
Siisap sõnu sahkamaie:
"Mida rooga, mehikesed,
Kattelassa keedetakse?
Peab teil pikki pidusida,
Saaja suuri ehk tulema?"
        Mehed mõistsid, kostsid vastu,
Pajatasid tulepaistelt:
"Katel keedab kallist rooga,
Keedab isa õhtusööki,
Tagurpäri-taadi toitu,
Vastuoksa-eide rooga,
Pööraspea-piigade putru,
Lustileenta langudelle.
Kui meil pidu peetanekse,
Suuri söömi tehtanekse,
Siisap tõuras tapetakse,
Suuri härga surmatakse;
Sada tuleb surmamaie,
Viissada veristama,
Tuhat meesta tappemaie.
        Täna keemas kehva katel,
Keemas vaese mehe vara,
Pole muud kui põdrapoolik,
Vana kuldi küljekesed,
Karu maks ja kopsukesed,
Noore hundi neerurasva,
Vana karu kamarada,
Põhjas kotka pesamuna -
Sest saab S a r v i k õhtuservet,
Vanamoori mokakastet,
Koer saab laket katlapõhjast,
Kassi kausi riismeida;
Pühkmed jäävad kokkadelle,
Jäävad osaks orjadelle.
Linapead on iseleival,
Neitsid noorukesed koogil,
Mis on teinud vanamoori,
Sortsitulel küpsetanud:
Sealt saab saia sõsaraile,
Närvatoitu neidudelle."
K a l e v i p o e g pajatama:
"Toho, tondilaste kokad,
Solgileeme sobitajad!
Kes see hullemada kuulnud,
Imedamat unes näinud!
Kentsakamat leemekeetu
Ei võind sortsi sobitada,
T u u s l a r ise toimetada!"
Üks neist meestest mõistis kohe,
Kavalasti kostis vastu:
"Meie katel keetanekse
Võõrast rooga valmistelles
Neljapäeval nõidadelle
Rammukosutavat rooga,
Keedab kehatugevusta
Targa tuuslar-taatidelle,
Sortsi poegadelle sööki;
Keedab vihavõttijada,
Kadeduse kergendajat,
Kurja silma kustutajat,
Keedab nooremate kasuks
Armumeele alustajat,
Südamete sütitajat."
        Kalevipoeg pajatama:
"Kui on katlal kümme keetu,
Pajal palju valmistusi,
Siis ei maksa õhtusööki
Tühjal kõhul oodatagi.
Juhatage, kulla vennad,
Kus te peremehe koda,
Tagurpäri-taadi tuba,
Vastuoksa-eide vari,
Pööraspea-piigade paika!
Karedamal kaunakesel
Vahest magus ivakene,
Koredamal koorukesel
Vahest sile sisukene."
        Pajahoidjad poisikesed
Pilkamisi pajatama:
"Kui sa astud kamberini,
Tallad teeda tubadeni,
Vaata enne, vennikene!
Aja siis silmad avali,
Et ei eksi jälgedelta,
Kaota käesta kodurada:
Libe hiirel lõksuminek,
Paha väljapääsemine."
Kalev mõistis, kostis vastu:
"Meest ei jõua müürid hoida
Ega kaljud kammitseda!
Tugevus ei kaota teeda,
Rammul rohkesti radasid."
        Pajahoidjad poisikesed
Joonelt teeda juhatama:
"Käi sa otse koopakurku,
Vaata, seal leiad värava;
Kummardele selga küüru,
Lase alla libamisi
Pugedes urgastee põhja!
Veere sammul, vennikene,
Käsikaudu katsudelles,
Küllap leiad toaukse!"
        Kalevite kange poega
Hakkas rada rändamaie,
Tuisul teeda tallamaie,
Kõndis tüki küürakili,
Teise tüki käpakili.
        Pajahoidjad poisikesed
Isekeskis irvitama:
"Karu läks kassi pesasse,
Lõvi lingupaeladesse,
Kuhu naha kaotanekse!"
        Kalevite kange poega
Tõttas teeda tüdimata,
Ehk küll käiki küürakili,
Roomakili mehel raske;
Umbekitsas pime urgas
Tegi teele tõkkeida.
Kaugelt hakkas tulekuma
Pimedasse paistemaie;
Silma võis nüüd selitelles
Jalga jälle juhatada.
Urgastee läks laiemaksi,
Kasvas ajult kõrgemaksi,
Kuni Kalevite poega
Püsti pääses kõndimaie.
        Kõrge koopa keske′ ella
Lae küljes rippus lampi,
Valgustelles vaatajalle
Kõik, mis silma kukkunekse.
Tagaseina oli tehtud
Kaunis laia toauksi.
Uksepiida kõrval seisid
Kaksi ämbrit kõrvutie,
Mõlemates oma märga,
Isesugusta vedelat;
Üks oli valge, piimakarva,
Teine tõmmu, tõrvakarva.
Toaukse tagant tungis
Vokikeste rattavurin,
Värtna veeremise virin,
Ketrajate kena helin,
Piigakeste lustilaulu.
Kalev sala kuulamaie.
        Piiga laul aga laksateli:
"Õekesed hellakesed,
Käharpeaga kaunikesed,
Linalakad linnukesed!
Igavuse ikkekene
Vaevab vaeseid voki taga
Kuldalõnga keerutelles,
Hõbeheideid venitelles.
Eks meid enne olnud hulka,
Eks meid paikus käinud parvi,
Eks meil olnud pidupõlvi,
Eks meil õitsend parem aega
Enne isa õue pealla,
Vanemate vainudella?
Eks me ehtind õhtu eella,
Plettind puna paeladesse,
Kuldakarva kirjadesse,
Läinud külakiige peale
Õhtulusti hõiskamaie?
        Seljas olid siidisärgid,
Kroogitud käiksed käessa,
Helmekorrad ümber kaela,
Suuri sõlgi rindadella,
Kuldasõrmuksed sõrmessa,
Poortidest pärjad peassa,
Kuldatressid pärgadella,
Siidirätikud kaelassa,
Siidisukad jalgadella.
Eks me enne tunnud õnne,
Eks me enne näinud ilu,
Rohkest′ pidul rõõmusida!
        Nüüdap leina kaotab lusti,
Nüüdap kurbus võtab karva,
Puna neiu palgeilta.
Vangis võõra voli alla
Kanakesed kamberissa,
Tuvid üksi tubadessa,
Kus ei kaugelt kuulajaida,
Hüva õnne soovijaida,
Ega käimas kosilasi.
Igavuses hallitame,
Kurvastuses kolletame
Voki taga, vaesekesed!
Või ei vaata armukesta,
Teretada tuttavada,
Kätt ei anda kalli′ille!
        Tuleks kaugelt teinepooli,
Tuleks täkulla tantsides
Enne valget alla õue
Leinajaida lepitama,
Kurvastusi kahandama,
Pisaraida pillutama!
Tuleks p ä i k e-peiukene,
Piigasida päästemaie;
Tuleks k u u kui kosilane
Neiukesi naljatama,
Leinapõlvest lunastama,
Tuleks t ä h t i-poisikene
Tuvikesi tahtemaie,
Vangist välja aitamaie;
Tuleks, kes ta ise tahes,
Tuleks üks tuulest tuisatud,
Tuleks vilets või vigane,
Kui aga oleks isane!"
Kalevite kallis poega,
Kui oli kuulnud neiu lugu,
Püüdis ukse lahti päästa,
Tabast lahtie tõugata,
Piitadesta painutada.
Kaljuseina kindlusella
Seisis värav vankumata,
Uksepiidad paindumata.
        Kalevite kange poega
Püüdis häälta pettelikult
Madalamaks moonutada,
Peenemaksi painutada,
Hakkas laulu laskemaie,
Sõnasida seadimaie:
"Läksin lustil kõndimaie,
Mööda metsi hulkumaie,
Meeletuju tuulutama,
Murekoormat kergitama;
Talv oli läinud tänavast,
Nurmed alles noorusella.
Mis ma leidsin lepikusta,
Kogemata kaasikusta?
Laidsin neiud neljakesi
Madaraida kiskumassa,
Puujuuri puistamassa,
Turbaida tuhnimassa.
Pead valged, põsed punased,
Sitikmustad silmakulmud.
Ei ma julgend juurde minna,
Ei olnud südant sülle võtta.
Läksin koju leinatessa,
Ukse ette nutte′ essa.
Taati minulta küsima,
Eite asja nõudemaie:
"Miks sa nutad, poega noori?
Miks sa kurdad kevadella?"
"Mis ma nutan, taadikene!
Mis ma kurdan, eidekene!
Läksin lustil kõndimaie,
Varaselta vaatamaie;
Mis seal leidsin lepikusta,
Kogemata kaasikusta?
Leidsin neiud neljakesi
Madaraida kiskumassa,
Puujuuri puistamassa,
Turbaida tuhnimassa,
Pead valged, põsed punased,
Sitikmustad silmakulmud.
Ei ma julgend juurde minna,
Ei olnud südant sülle võtta,
Läksin koju leinatessa."
        Taati mõistis, kostis vastu:
"Ole vaita, poega noori!
Küll panen ammu püüdemaie,
Nooled pikad noppimaie."
Poega vastu pajatama:
"Oh mu armas taadikene!
See pole ammupüüdemine
Ega noolenoppimine;
See on kulla ostemine,
Hõbeda lunastamine,
Kallima kauba ostetava.
Küll lähen linnast tooma kaupa,
Poekambrist poortisida,
Leti tagant lintisida,
Seina pealta siidisida -
Seega petan neiukesed."
        Võtsin hoielda hobuda,
Ratsukesta ravitseda,
Kõrvikesta kosutada;
Siis panin ratsu rakke′esse,
Sametise sadulasse,
Hõbedase helmestesse,
Vaskiselga valjaisse;
Läksin kaugelt kosimaie,
Neiukesi otsimaie:
Veerin teie väravasse,
Tulin teie ukse taha."
        Neiu kuulis kamberissa,
Laulis vastu lõksutelles:
"Külapoiss mul, kulla venda,
Kaugelt tulnud kosilane!
Õnnetunnil oled tulnud
Piigakesta püüdemaie;
Peremees on kodunt läinud
Asjasida ajamaie,
Eite kooki küpsetamas,
Laste leiba vaalimassa,
Õde noorem hanekarjas
Lestajalgu lepitamas,
Teine kulda küürimassa,
Hõbeasju haljastamas;
Mina üksi, kurba lindu,
Leinaikkes lõokene,
Vokivärtnaid veeretamas,
Kuldalõnga ketramassa,
Hõbeheideid korrutamas.
        Kuule, kallis külapoissi,
Petiskeelil peiukene!
Kasta oma käppasida
Ukse kõrval ämberisse,
Kussa märga tõmmut karva,
Tugevuse toetaja:
Siis su käpal kasvab võimu,
Raudarammu rusikalle,
Miska kaljuseinad murrad,
Lõhud raudased väravad,
Teraksesta tehtud tornid.
Kui peab kangus kahanema,
Liiga-rammu rammestama,
Võimus käesta võõrdumaie,
Kasta käsi teise ämbri,
Kussa märga piimakarva,
Tugevuse taltsutaja,
Kange väe kustutaja, -
Muidu tugev käsi murrab
Pihuks kõik, mis ette puutub."
        Kalevite kange poega
Tõttas käsku täitemaie,
Kuidas piiga pajatanud,
Neitsi noori õpetanud.
Käppa kastes tundis kohe
Tugevusta tõusemaie,
Käes rammu kasvamaie.
Kui ta võttis uksest kinni,
Põrkas kõigi piitadega
Prantsatelles põrmandalle.
        Kui ta üle lävepaku
Jalga tõstnud tubadesse,
Kanna pannud põrmandalle,
Kargas neitsi kohkudessa
Kärmeil kannul voki tagant,
Pistis tuulil putkamaie,
Lendas üle läve kambri.
        Neitsikene noorukene
Kanget käppa karte′ essa
Neitsipillil palumaie:
"Kallis kange mehe poega,
Tuulest tulnud peiukene!
Ära pista raudakäppa,
Näpukesta neitsikesse,
Enne kui võimu vähendad,
Enne kui kangust kahandad,
Nõiaväge nõrgendad.
Kasta käppa teise ämbri,
Kussa märga piimakarva,
Kange rammu kahandaja!"
        Kalevite kallis poega
Pani naeruks pajatusta,
Noore neitsi kohkumista,
Mõtles ise omas meeles:
Ega käsi hellitelles
Kahju ei või kasvatada.
        Neiukene noorukene
Pisarpillil palumaie:
"Ära veere, vennikene,
Ära astu ligemalle!
Määratuks sind Taara loonud,
Vanaisa valmistanud,
Tugevamaks nõidus teinud,
Sortsimärga sünnitanud.
Vist sa oled, kallis võõras,
Kuulus Kalevite poega,
Kangelaste kasvandikku,
Sulevite sugulane,
Alevite armas sõber?
Sellest, kui ma kodu kasvin,
Lilleke eide lepikus,
Orjavitsa alla õue,
Angervaksa aia ääres,
Kullerkuppu koppelissa,
Imelikke ilmutusi
Sadadena kuulda saanud,
Tuhandeilla enne tulnud."
        Piigakese pärimised,
Sõbrasõnal soovimised
Jäävad joonelt vastamata.
Kalevite mõttekäigid
Teisel tuulel tuiskamassa,
Teisel luhal luusimassa.
Lävest üle astudessa,
Võõrast tuba vaadatessa
Oli kohe kogemata
Mõnusama mehe mõõga
Tagaseinassa silmanud.
Varnas rippus kallis vara,
Teises varnas mõõga kõrval
Väike pajuvitsakene,
Kolmandamas suvikübar,
Vana kaabulotikene.
        Kalevite kange poega,
See ei kuulnud neiu kutsu
Ega vaatnud vitsakesta,
Pidand lugu kübarasta;
Mõtted käisid mõõga peale,
Soovisivad sõjariista.
Seda olid salasepad,
Maa-alused meisterid
Salakojas sünnitanud,
Varjupaigas valmistanud.
Kui ta mõttes mõõka mõõtnud,
Pärast nõnda pajatama:
"Siin on, mis ma unes nägin,
Magadessa ette mõistsin,
Arudel enne arvasin:
See′p see mõõka mulle tehtud,
Salakojas sünnitatud
Kadund mõõga kohatäitjaks,
Mis on Kääpasse maetud."
        Piiga kambrist palumaie:
"Kuule, kulla vennikene!
Jäta mõõka võttemata,
Sõjariista Sarvikulle;
Võta pajuvitsakene,
Võta varjukaabukene:
Pajuvitsa päästab põrgust,
Kübar kurja kiusatusest.
Mõõga võid sa mõnusama
Sepal lasta sobitada,
Mõõka oskab meister teha,
Selli tarka sünnitada;
Aga kallist kaabukesta,
Pajuvitsa väetikesta
Või ei ilmas kuskil leida.
Kübaral on kümme väge,
Vitsal seitse saladusi,
Üheksa veel isevoli.
Soovimiste sõuendusel,
Tahtemiste täitemisel
Vitsakene väga vägev,
Kübar kangem abimeesi,
Targem asja toimetaja."
        Kalevite kange poega
Mõistis kohe, kostis vastu:
"Küllap jõuan soovimisi
Tahtemisel talitada
Ilma sortsikübarata,
Nõiavitsa aitamata.
Tuuslarite tuulesõidud,
Sortsilaste sünnitused,
Tühja-taadi tembutused
Saa ei meesta eksitama,
Kangelasta kütkendama;
Tugevus teede tegija,
Rammu radade rajaja."
        Neitsikene noorukene
Vaidlemista vaigistelles
Võttis kübara varnasta,
Võttis kätte kaabukese,
Mis ei vildist vanutatud,
Villast olnud valmistatud
Ega karvadest kogutud;
Kübar oli küüntelaastust,
Korjatud küünte kildudest
Targal kombel ise tehtud.
Piigakene pajatelles
Kübarada kiitemaie:
"See′ p see kübar maksab kallis,
Maksab määratuma hinna,
Kallima kui kuningriigi,
Sest ei teista sarnalista
Suures ilmas pole saada,
Laias ilmas iial leida.
Mis sa soovimiste sõudel,
Igatsuste ihkamisel
Iial peaksid himustama:
Kaapu kohe kasvatamas,
Tahtemista täitemassa."
        Naljapärast pani neitsi
Kaabukese oma pähe,
Sõnul ise soovimaie:
"Kasva, kasva, kulla neiu!
Sirgu, sirgu, sinisilma!
Kasva Kalevi kõrguseks,
Sirgu sõbra suuruseksi!"
        Silmanähes sirgus sõsar,
Kasvas küünra, kasvas kaksi,
Sirgus sülla, sirgus kaksi,
Kasvas Kalevi kõrguseks,
Sirgus sõbra suuruseksi.
        Kalevite kallis poega
Neitsi naljamängi nähes,
Kiire′ esti kasvamista,
Silmapilgul sirgumista,
Võttis kaabu neitsi peasta,
Pani endale päheje,
Siisap soovil sõnaldama:
"Vaju, vaju, vennikene!
Kärssu, kärssu, kange meesi!
Vaju sülda väiksemaksi,
Mõni sülda madalamaks,
Kärssu kokku kera kombel,
Sõsara noore sarnaseks!"
        Kalev hakkas kahanema,
Vajus vaksa, vajus kaksi,
Kahanes veel mõne küünra,
Vajus piiga vääriliseks,
Sõsaralle sarnaliseks.
        Neitsikene noorukene,
Küll sa võtsid kübarada,
Võtsid kaabu peiu peasta,
Panid endale päheje,
Sigitasid soovimisi,
Et sa saaksid endiseksi,
Loodud looma kohaseksi.
Silmapilgul vajus sõsar,
Kärssus kokku kullakene
Loodud looma radadelle.
        Kalevite kallis poega
Neitsi nalja naeratama,
Pärast nõnda pajatama:
"Sinu pärast, sõsar noori,
Tahan täna titekeseks,
Pisukeseks poisiks jääda,
Tahan kui tammetõruke,
Kenakene kurnitappi
Väikselt põrandal veereda."
        Soovituste sõudetäitjat,
Küüntest tehtud kübarada
Käest ei raatsind kaotada,
Mõtles aga omas meeles:
Kui tuleb tüli kogemata,
Veereb viletsuse vihma,
Rahesadu raskemada
Äkitselta ähvardama,
Küllap kübar kiireline
Kangemada kasvatamas,
Suuremada sünnitamas.
        Pisukese poisi põlves
Pidas tema lustipidu,
Naljamängi neitsiga.
Kahekesi kallid lapsed
Tantsil tuba talla′ avad,
Põrandalla pööritavad,
Kui oleks tuba toomingane,
Pähkelpuista tehtud põrand,
Pihlakasta uksepiidad,
Vahterasta vaheseinad,
Kui oleks kullassa kutsutud,
Hõbedas neid hõigatud
Laulusida lõksutama,
Mis ju meelest mitu läinud,
Mitu kenamat kadunud.
        Neitsikene noorukene
Palus tuppa teise piiga,
Kes see kulda küürimassa,
Hõbedada haljastamas,
Vaski oli vaalimassa;
Kutsus õe kolmandama,
Kes see käinud hanekarjas
Lestajalgu lepitamas,
Kutsus õed kahekesi
Võõrast venda vaatamaie.
        Piigakesed pajatama:
"Lukutagem köögiuksed,
Pangem ette pöörakesed,
Tabad kindlad ukse taha,
Et ei vanaeite pääse
Meie pidu pillamaie!"
        Köögiuksed pandi kinni.
Eite kooki küpsetelles
Läind kui hiirekene lõksu,
Võind ei enam välja päästa
Lustipidu lühendama.
        Kalevite kallis poega
Tegi nalja neidudelle,
Ajaviitust armsatelle,
Lubades neid lunastada,
Põrgupõlvest päästaneda:
"Küllap viin teid kolmekesi
Päikese paiste′elle,
Püüan teile peiukesi,
Kosilasi kasvatada,
Sugulastest soovitada;
Soovin ühe Suleville,
Annan teise Aleville,
Kolmanda kannupoisile.
Mina ise, noori meesi,
Kasupoisike, ei kosi,
Või ei väeti naista võtta:
Pean veel sülla sirgunema,
Paari vaksa paisumaie,
Tüki saama targemaksi,
Teise tüki taltsamaksi,
Enne kui võin välja minna
Kodukana kosimaie.
Nüüdap, kulli kõvernokka,
Lendan, kägu, lepikusse,
Lendan lustil luhtadelle
Õnnepidu otsimaie."
        Mitmeida lustimänge
Võeti ajaviite′eksi:
Kulli puistas kanapoegi -
Kalev kulli, piigad kanad;
Sõidetie sõgesikku,
Hakati sõrmust otsima,
Naabrimängi naljapärast,
Peitusmängi pidamaie,
Mis ei laulik jõuaks laulda,
Keelil kõike kuulutada.
Meelest läinud laulud kenad,
Peast pulmapillikesed,
Käest kuldsed kuulutused,
Meelest mõned magusamad.
        Kui kord lõpeb lustipäeva,
Õnneööde hõiskamine,
Kui saab noorus närtsimaie,
Puna palgeilt kahvatama,
Siis on lõpul lauluaega,
Kaotab kägu kukkumise,
Ööbik iluhüüdemise,
Lõokene lustitralli,
Neitsi noorta häälekese.
Kui ei pika ilu peale
Peiupillil tantsidessa
Piigal tõuse pillikesta,
Kahetsuse kurvastusi,
Lustipidult leinamisi,
Siis võib pidu pajatelles
Luike lustikeelel laulda.

Source Colophon

Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald, Kalevipoeg (Kolmeteistkümnes Lugu), first edition 1857. Digital text from Project Gutenberg eBook #25062. Public domain.

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