From the Collection of Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald and Heinrich Neus
These twelve mythological songs represent the sacred core of Estonian folk tradition as it survived into the nineteenth century. They were collected from oral performance across Estonia — from Pleskau (Pskov) in the east to Oesel (Saaremaa) in the west, from Jerwen (Järva) and Wierland (Virumaa) in the north — and published in 1854 as the first section of Mythische und Magische Lieder der Ehsten (Mythological and Magical Songs of the Estonians).
Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald (1803–1882), the father of Estonian literature and compiler of the national epic Kalevipoeg, recorded most of the songs from the mouths of village singers. Heinrich Neus (1795–1876), a Baltic German scholar and folklorist, edited the collection, provided the German translations, and wrote the scholarly annotations. The collection was published in St. Petersburg by the Imperial Academy of Sciences in April 1854.
The songs preserve fragments of a pre-Christian Estonian cosmology in which the creator Taara (cognate with Finnish Ukko and Norse Thor) shapes the world, sows forests and fish, and raises the cosmic oak whose crown blots out the sun. Wanemuine, the god of song and waters, composes from birdsong on a hillside. Four Air Maidens weave garments for the celestial bodies. The heavenly road leads through rainbows and morning-light. These are the oldest recorded witnesses to Estonian sacred thought.
This is a Good Works Translation from the Estonian source text, with Neus's German translation consulted as interpretive reference. No complete English translation of this collection has previously existed.
1. The Singer
From the parishes of Marien Magdalenen or Koddafer in the Dorpat district, recorded by Kreutzwald.
When I begin to sing,
To ponder and to sing:
Then the village stays to listen,
The lords stand bowed to hear,
The household lingers, thoughtful,
To listen to my words.
When a wiser time shall come,
A better joy in our days:
Then I shall sing the songs of old,
Strike up the singer's tale,
What I devised in Harrien,
What I drew from Wierland,
What I ransomed through the Wiek,
What I inherited from Jerwen.
Then I shall sing fire into the snowstorm,
Drifts into the snow's expanse,
Set the clouds ablaze,
Make the flakes of snow catch flame!
Such is the old way of Wierland,
The Jerwen singer's craft!
When I sing my song aloud:
How much can a horse carry away,
How much can a brown one draw,
How much a flax-maned steed convey?
Only Kalev's horse could bear
The fullness of my songs!
2. Creation Myths
Fragments. All from Pleskau, recorded by Kreutzwald.
A
Let us go and make our songs,
Old words into snares wind,
Gifts of friends in order set,
With the rivers lead them onward,
With the seas sound out their telling,
With the cliffs carry them upward:
What they speak of that is golden,
What they show of that is silver,
What they tell of Wanemuine,
What they know of Taara's wisdom.
Once, once the world appeared,
The world appeared, the fairest,
Once the sky was fashioned,
Fashioned full of wisdom,
Stitched over with the stars,
Woven through with clouds.
I knew how the sky was made,
The house of the moon raised up,
A nest for the sun's high chief,
Another also for the stars.
B
The warp was woven in the south,
The weft in the house of dawn,
The last threads in the hall of the sun.
There the silks of blue,
The moss-hued velvets,
The scarlet-bordered garments,
The gold-figured yellow garments
Were worked upon the loom,
Danced upon the treadles.
There the cloth was woven,
All the linen beaten smooth,
With which the world was beautified,
The rim of heaven dyed,
The clouds in colour pierced,
The quarters of the world adorned,
To gleam at evening's hour,
To glow at the sun's rising.
There was stitched the mantle of the stars,
The rainbow's many-coloured cloak,
A golden robe woven for the moon,
A shimmering veil for the little sun —
The Old Father, the Old Wise One,
Had finished all his labour,
Had made the world in beauty!
C
There are golden tidings,
Silver revelations,
That I ploughed from the hillside,
That I coaxed from the mountain's base,
That I asked from the cliffs' foundation.
I knew how the river was made,
How the holy river was bound,
How the Mother-river was led.
Wide across the world the river ran,
Ran from waterfall to lake,
From lake down into the sea.
I knew how the sea was measured,
How the caverns of the sea were hollowed,
I knew how fish were sown,
How spawning-places were chosen.
The Old Father sowed the fish,
Sowed fish to grow,
Fish-spawn to thrive,
In the cavern-mouths to slumber,
In the sunlight to swell.
I knew how the forest was measured,
How the pines were sown,
The ash-groves scattered,
The oak-groves planted,
The lindens made.
The Old Father sowed the woodland,
Sowed woodland to grow,
Brushwood to sprout,
Oak-groves to rise,
Ash-groves to stand.
I knew how the oak-tree budded,
How Taara's oak arose.
The oak grew in the middle of the world,
In the middle of the world, the fairest;
It grew to the height of heaven,
Its crown splitting the clouds,
Its branches holding back the winds.
The oak grew, the oak rose,
The oak rose up to heaven,
Hiding away the sun's brightness,
Shadowing the moon's light,
Quenching the gleam of the stars.
3. The Wonder Oak
Fragment. From the village of Megositz in Pleskau, recorded from the mouth of an Estonian woman from the parish of Neuhausen, by Kreutzwald.
I went to the sea to gather,
To the sea's edge to rake clean,
A golden rake in my hand,
Silver the teeth of the rake,
Brazen the shaft of the rake.
What did I rake from the sea,
What did I clean from the waves?
I raked the refuse of the oak,
I cleaned the oak's good timber.
Who then raised the oak,
Who made the oak to grow?
In olden time a son of the sun,
A son of Taara, wise himself,
Had planted the acorn in the ground,
Planted it in the slash-burned soil,
In new ground to grow,
In cleared ground to sprout.
The oak rose, the oak grew,
Rose to the height of a span,
To the strength of two spans.
Then came a breeze with a whisper,
A rain-shower rustling down.
The breeze lifted the little oak,
The rain watered the tender thing,
Lifted the oak to rise,
Stretched the young oak upward.
The oak rose, the oak grew,
The oak rose up to heaven,
Schemed to scatter the clouds,
Strove to shatter heaven's roof,
Struggled to hide the sun,
Struggled to extinguish the moon,
And to kill the little stars.
4. The Gold and Silver Gleam of the Fishes
From the village of Vaksorow in Pleskau, recorded by Kreutzwald.
Where do you find your song-makers,
If not from slender maidens?
Song-maidens in a golden ship
Sailed out upon the sea to sway,
To row past the wide islands,
To sing the joy of the waves.
The waves felt the weight of the ship,
The winds the merry sound of the rigging:
Leaping up like silver streaks,
Gliding like gleaming ribbons.
Where did the maidens find their oarsmen,
Steersmen for the song-maidens?
Fins for rowing lent the fish,
The sturgeon steered the vessel,
Steered the vessel through the waves
Slanting toward the fishing-ground of the north.
From the Northland came the youths,
From the cliffs the Kalevings,
From the isle of Kungla a king's son.
They wanted the maidens for wives,
The herd-birds for companions.
"Men are to our liking,
Our own, in our own land!"
Through the waves the ship pressed on,
Gliding the smooth highways.
Past them flew the great islands,
Past them the ships of Finland.
Then came the swallow, the sun's bird,
Seeking a place to nest.
It had flown over distant lands,
Distant lands and fields of stubble,
Over village ploughmen's furrows,
Over the poor folk's fallow.
It found no sheltering thicket,
No hidden tree for nesting.
It flew toward the sea
Upon the sound of the song-ship.
In the shadow of the maidens' sail
The swallow settled down to nest.
It built a nest of silver coins,
Silken down upon the floor,
Velvet-moss upon the walls.
It laid an egg of golden shell,
Sat upon the egg to brood.
But the ship with singing echoes
Flew before the whispering winds
Nearer to the bounds of the north.
A sorcerer raised the heads of wind,
Blew the sails up higher,
Set the ship to rocking.
The swallow, the sail-bird,
Lost the egg into the sea!
It flew in grief three days,
Circling around the ship's pennant.
It could not rest its wing,
Nor even take in food.
There it sank into the waves
Upon the golden eggshell.
The egg burst at the sea's floor,
Gilding the scales of the fishes.
The gudgeon received from the egg-white
Silver glitter for its skin.
5. The Air Maidens
Fragments. A from Pleskau, recorded by J. Kolbe; B from Pleskau, recorded by Kreutzwald.
A
How did I learn the tidings,
The deep-rooted reports of old?
Grant me leisure, my dear ones,
Be patient, my fair ones:
Well shall I proclaim the tidings,
Bind the words into a sheaf,
Turn the sounds upon the clapper,
Show you beauty in the tale,
In the secretly-revealed word.
Once there were open lips of singers,
Herald-sons of noble voice,
Maidens with the mouth of wisdom.
A thousand pieces flew to the winds,
A thousand into the driving snow's tombs,
A burial mound covered a third,
Bondage destroyed a fourth.
What the monk perhaps had hidden,
Or the priest's word overcome,
A hundred tongues could never count,
Nor a thousand witnesses!
What I have salvaged from the rubble,
Gathered from the fallen scraps,
What I learned in my mother's lap,
Caught from my father's wisdom,
Gleaned from the heather,
Plucked in youth from the field —
This I let, in faithful measure,
Ring in the listener's ear.
Thus then I learned the tidings,
The deep-rooted reports of old:
Four there were in former times, the maidens,
Sisters who went sailing,
Four the curly-headed hens,
Four the marten-eyed weasels,
Berry-minded, sending signs,
Wise-capped, bearing truth:
Still young maidens in the nest,
In the shelter of the home-basket.
One maiden was the river's nixie,
River's nixie, water's blood-cake;
The second maiden was a daughter of the stars,
Star-daughter, heaven's dove;
The third was the moon's pupil,
Moon's pupil, guardian of nights;
The fourth maiden the sun's swallow,
Sun's swallow, the deceiver.
Thus I learned the tidings,
The deep-rooted reports of old:
What were these maidens doing,
What useful work attending?
Four they had of playful labours,
Playful labours, idle nights:
They must embroider for the sun,
Weave gold for the moon,
Stitch patterns for the stars,
Fashion from the water's eye,
Sew upon the garment of the mist.
The Old Father, the little Old Father,
Did not let his children wander far,
Nor let them loiter in idleness.
Thus I learned the tidings,
The deep-rooted reports of old,
From the bear's field of the heath,
From the eagle's nest of the north.
The maidens wilted in their playful tasks,
Grew weary of idle nights;
Slowly crept the passing time,
Painfully slid the hurrying hours,
The air maidens, wearied long,
Woman twisting with woman —
No man to take delight in them,
No husband to protect them —
They went to seek a husband,
To bid a bridegroom from the north,
To hunt for joy from the south,
To summon suitors from the east.
Thus I learned the tidings,
The deep-rooted reports of old:
The air maidens in their long weariness
Went to seek a husband,
To bid a bridegroom from the north.
Who heard the maidens' call,
Who heard the braided ones' bidding?
As far as Kurland rang the calling,
Into the clouds' surge the bidding,
To the sea-floor the sighing.
No bridegroom was found in the field of the north,
No lad in half the world.
Time became a long weariness,
The maidens sickened of their life:
Alone they were within the world,
Unpaired in the sunshine,
Uncomforted upon the night's bed,
Unvalued on the bench of dawn.
Thus I learned the tidings,
The deep-rooted reports of old:
Kalevala bore sons,
Sons of bold stature,
Not carried by woman,
Not nursed in the mother's lap.
They had labours hard as wagers,
Hard labours, heavy nights.
The Old Father, the little Old Father,
Did not let his sons rest in the drying-barns,
But drove them to plough the marshes,
To turn the slopes of hills,
To clear the wide forest,
To scour the sea's depths,
To turf the mountain-peaks,
To spread the level plains.
B
Bird Siuro, Taara's daughter,
Bird Siuro of the blue wing,
Was born without a father's word,
Grew without a mother's brooding,
Without her sisters' wishes,
Against her brothers' will.
The bird had no little nest,
The swallow-child no brooding-place,
To renew the feathers of down,
To form the feathers of blood.
But Ukko set in order,
The Old Father fashioned at last
For the daughter wings of wind,
Wings of wind, riders of cloud,
That the child might glide with them,
Be carried far into the distance.
Bird Siuro, Taara's daughter,
Bird Siuro of the blue wing,
Flew far, glided far,
Flew and glided toward the south,
Turned aside toward the north,
Flew across three worlds.
One world was the world of maidens,
The second of the curly-haired in their growing,
The third the hall of little children,
Little children's nursing-place.
Bird Siuro spread its wings,
Spread its wings of silk,
Flew and glided up to heaven
Near before the sun's stronghold,
Before the moon's bright hall,
To the little brazen gate.
Bird Siuro spread its wings,
Spread its wings of silk,
Flew far, glided far,
Turned homeward at evening.
The father asked the daughter:
Where in your flight have you been gliding,
Where have you wandered in the distance,
What did you see, marten-eye?
Siuro understood, Siuro answered,
Answered without alarm:
Where I went gliding and slipping,
I left my down-feathers drifting;
Where I turned in my wandering,
There fell a feather of silk;
Where I fluttered with my wing,
Fell a feather from the tail.
What my marten-eye did see,
Of that there are seven things to tell,
Even eight things to report.
Long I wandered the path of the bear,
The rainbow's drizzling road,
Along the heavy road of hail.
Long I wandered, searching alone,
Glided slipping, swinging alone,
Until I found three worlds.
One world was the world of maidens,
Then of the curly-haired in their growing,
Third the hall of little children,
Little children's nursing-place,
Where the beautiful ones were growing,
Where the silken ones were stretching.
"What you learned, proclaim!
What you saw, show it!"
What I learned, golden father,
What I saw, dear father!
I heard the maidens' jesting,
Jesting and their sorrows,
These curly-heads' mockery,
These little children's crying.
Why must these jesting maidens,
These curly-haired in their growing,
These little child-hens
Live so alone,
Growing without care?
So one asks in every place.
Has the father no son of the stars,
Star-son or another,
Who might go to free the maidens,
To listen for the curly-haired?
Taara understood, straightaway he said:
Fly, daughter, glide, daughter,
Fly, daughter, toward the south,
Glide slipping toward the west,
From the west aside to the north.
Slip before the old one's door,
To the western mother's threshold,
To the border of the mother of the north:
Ask diligently there for suitors,
Plead for rescuers of the maidens.
6. The Son of the Rock
From the parish of Ampel in Jerwen, recorded by Kreutzwald.
I went to the sea to sway,
Upon the waves to sing,
In the fish-spawn to wade.
I laid my corals on the meadow,
My pearls upon the swath,
My necklace on the wide gravel,
My ribbon on the broad sand,
My rings upon the turf.
A pike rose from the water,
A swallow flew above the water,
A black leech from the mud;
Seized the corals from the meadow,
The pearls from the swath,
The necklace from the wide gravel,
The ribbon from the broad sand,
The rings from the turf.
I began to cry for help,
To plead with urgent voice:
Come to help me, youth of Harrien,
Come to save me, youth of Pernau!
But the youth of Harrien did not hear,
Nor did the youth of Pernau hear.
Help came from the son of the rock,
He, the player of the Swedish harp:
"Why do you weep, O maiden,
Why do you lament, O dear one?"
I went to the sea to sway,
Upon the waves to sing,
In the fish-spawn to wade.
I laid my corals on the meadow,
My pearls upon the swath,
My necklace on the wide gravel,
My ribbon on the broad sand,
My rings upon the turf.
A pike rose from the water,
A swallow flew above the water,
A black leech from the mud;
Seized the corals from the meadow,
The pearls from the swath,
The necklace from the wide gravel,
The ribbon from the broad sand,
The rings from the turf.
Then spoke the son of the rock,
He, the player of the Swedish harp:
"Do not weep, dear maiden,
Do not lament, young darling!
We shall find these thieves,
We shall surprise these robbers."
He began to play the harp,
To make the harp-strings ring,
To let the song resound.
The sea stood stunned to listen,
The waves paused in their falling,
The clouds gazed down in longing.
A pike rose from the water,
A swallow flew above the water,
A leech appeared from the mud;
They brought my ornaments to the meadow,
Cast the corals on the grass,
The ribbon on the broad sand,
The rings upon the turf.
The son of the rock offered me his hand:
"Come, dove, be mine!
With us every day is holy,
Feasting the whole year through."
I cannot come, son of the rock,
I cannot come home to you!
We have suitors enough at home,
Wife-seekers in plenty.
Let the summer go, in autumn
Through the village dogs will bark,
When the iron-hand comes walking,
When the wine-basket is brought.
God reward your help!
Thanks for your good deed!
More than that you shall not have.
7. Wanemuine's Song
Fragment. From Pleskau, recorded by Kreutzwald.
He, the song-craft's dreamer,
The dreamer, the song's cock,
Wanemuine the wit-rich,
Sat upon the hillside, bowed,
Bowed beneath the pine,
Listening to the lark's calling,
To the song-thrush's sighing,
To the cuckoo's golden cuckooing,
To the nightingale's striking,
To the nesting bird's whispering,
To the turtle-dove's cooing,
To the widowed bird's weeping.
From these he fashioned words,
Words well-bound together,
Songs of delight,
Sorrows' aching,
That he might weave the jesting of the young,
The griefs of heavy hearts,
Into his songs,
In singing reconcile them.
8. The Hall of Joy
From Oesel (Saaremaa), recorded by Agate; here from a copy by A. F. J. Knüpffer.
I was the despised child of my father,
I was the despised child of my mother,
I was the littlest of my brothers,
Under the word of my sisters.
My father bid me to the marsh,
My mother bid me buried in earth,
My brothers to the water's depth,
My sisters to the flax-steep.
But I, the late one, spoke against it:
Wait, wait, wait, wait, little mother,
Wait, wait, wait, wait, little father,
Let the merry one live,
Let the one born before her time remain!
A young crow was a bold little lad,
A young crow was a gentle bird,
Took me under its other wing,
Carried me to the village of joy,
Carried me to the golden hall of joy,
To the golden chamber of joy,
To weave golden cloth,
To smooth silver threads,
To beat upon paper,
To arrange silk ribbons.
The old father watched from hiding,
The old mother watched from hiding,
The young brothers watched from hiding,
The young sisters watched from hiding,
The brothers' wives watched from hiding.
Water ran from the father's eyes,
Water ran from the mother's eyes,
Water ran from the brother's eyes,
Water from the brothers' wives' eyes,
The sisters raged wildly,
When they measured my joy,
When they beheld my fortune,
When they saw my handiwork.
But I, the late one, spoke against it:
Hear me, hear me, golden brothers!
Yourselves you bid me to the marsh,
Cast me into the great lowland.
Great birds were to devour me,
Great hawks to hack me apart.
Even then I would have died,
And from hiding the sisters would have watched —
Blissfully then I would have died,
And my grave would have grown green!
9. The Heavenly Road
Both from the parishes of Marien Magdalenen or Koddafer in the Dorpat district, recorded by Kreutzwald.
A
Fragment.
Below I drove through the grey world,
Above I drove across the world,
Behind me through the crimson sky,
Between five rainbows,
Through the midst of six dawn-shimmers.
Below I shattered the grey one's iron,
I broke apart the roan's hooves,
I let the brown horse's spurs be lost!
B
One single brother I have,
I with my silver ornament the sister,
With my golden robe the little hen,
With my blue ribbon the maiden.
He is among the lords a steward,
At the judge's bench an orderer,
At the kings' court a herald.
He has the beauty of lords,
In his face the glow of priests:
He surpasses the lords in beauty,
Outshines the priests in colour,
In fine garments the masters,
In books Oesel's nobles,
In braids Sweden's nobles!
Hear what a brother I have!
He breathes fire into the sea,
He fans flames into the floods,
Builds a room upon the wing of wind,
A chamber in the rainbow,
Casts Weissenstein into the clouds,
Wesenberg into the hail-clouds!
He himself sits upon the sun,
Rests his head against the moon's shoulder.
He makes a horse out of the wind,
Hews hooves from the dew-grass,
Makes eyes from lily-of-the-valley leaves,
Shapes little ears from rushes.
Where he lets his horse run,
A city springs up there;
Where he lets his horse wheel,
A church turns there;
Where he lets his horse play,
A hill rises there!
He rides along the Finnish bridge,
Along Sweden's silver paths:
Beneath him the horse glows like an oven,
Beneath him the stallion gleams like a star,
Beneath, the mare dances in her game;
He himself above like this sun,
His garment fine as the evening sky,
His hat church-bright upon his head,
His ribbons like the crosses of Riga,
His belt studded with the clasps of Narva!
Where he walks, the sky gleams,
Where he wanders, the sky trembles,
All the marsh turns blue with life,
All the meadows bloom with flowers,
The nightingale bursts from the bird-cherry,
The cuckoo calls from the distant fir-wood!
The maidens of Wierland watched him,
Blinking-eyed the girls of Jerwen,
The loveliest of Harrien gazed,
From the Wiek the maidens wept:
If this man were mine,
If this man were wed to us,
If this bridegroom were our portion:
We would stand through summer without food,
Through the year without any bread,
Tasting no grain through the winter,
All spring long without a cooked meal!
I would feed him on the flesh of swine,
Raise him on the egg of the hen,
Anoint him with buttered bread,
Lay him on pillows to sleep,
To stretch upon a silken bed,
To slumber in the velvet!
10. The Youth's Journey
From Oesel (Saaremaa), recorded by Lagos.
My dear father raised me,
My gentle mother adorned me,
My good sister smoothed me,
My young brothers turned me out.
They clothed me in my jacket,
In my gloves, in my hat,
Stately with the silken boots.
They had an ashen sleigh built,
Every summer a runner,
Every month a spoke;
Every day I sharpened a peg,
Every Friday I struck a cross-piece,
Every Saturday a splint,
Every week a nail.
When at last the sleigh was finished,
Finished and whitened —
The sleigh still lacked its shafts.
Through tangled meadows I wandered,
Through the splintered meadows I walked,
And came to Taara's oak-grove,
And went there to the smith.
The smith cast me brazen shafts,
Dripped me drops of tin,
Rang me a crook of gold,
Burnished me silver reins,
Cast an iron collar for the neck.
I harnessed a horse before the sleigh:
Then my tin sleigh tinkled,
The brass-headed horse flashed,
The golden crook rang out,
The sleigh-shafts sang in the Harrien way,
The green aprons in the Swedish way.
When the horse then whinnied,
When it bent its legs,
All things jingled and clattered:
I drove through Lindanissa,
Maidens watched from the shadows:
Who then could be my man?
Such a one must be my man!
Head fair, cheeks red,
Beetle-black the brows of his eyes!
The maidens spoke, all speaking:
If this man were mine,
I could endure without food,
Through winter without tasting grain!
11. Old Festivals
A from Pleskau, recorded by Kreutzwald; B from the parish of St. Johannis in Jerwen, recorded by Ch. J. Glanström.
A
Fragment.
Alone the high ones live,
Without a greater kindred,
Alone they come, the nine,
Alone they go, the nine.
Nine are the nights of grace,
Nine the inherited holy days:
The ninth is Ukko's feast.
B
Harvest Song.
Indeed I cut, but have no strength!
Are my hands bound in chains?
Lord God, O dear Lord God!
Bring me that strength from the river,
From the water bring me might!
Better is the Lord's strength
Than the strength of another woman.
Never shall the rivers strengthen me,
Nor the springs give me help,
If God does not strengthen me,
Dear little Jesus help.
Let both hands be busy,
Both hands, ten nails,
Let five fingers stir,
That we may swim to the end at last,
That we may reach the island's point,
Cross over to the land of milk!
At the end waits red ale,
At the border, cakes of milk,
Upon the island, slender loaves!
12. Children's Song
A probably from the parish of St. Simonis, recorded by H. W. Ch. Paucker; B probably from the region of Pernau, recorded by J. H. Rosenplänter; C from the region of Leal in the Wiek, recorded by an unnamed collector.
A
Where shall we three go wandering,
Over the field, where shall we five?
Let us go to the oak for acorns,
To the sun for hazelnuts.
What then shall be given us there?
Six little golden belts,
A hundred little clasps of the lords.
Where shall we put the golden things?
Upon the hunchback's hat,
Upon the son-in-law's gate,
Upon the bed-rail of the father-in-law,
Upon the over-pillow of the mother-in-law.
The pillow caught fire and burned —
Who is quick to quench it?
Kalev's boy, the little lad,
Kalev with the spurred feet,
He brings water in a trough,
Carries it in a brazen kettle
Together with the rainbow.
In the rainbow are drops of water,
In the rainbow drops of water,
In the drop is a red goose,
The goose has a blue tail,
In the tail is a lordly bed.
There are four young maidens:
One, she weaves the golden belts,
The second stitches serpent-patterns,
The third works cat's-paw designs,
The fourth weeps for her young man.
B
Silently I walked the silent path,
Secretly along the groves.
The cocks of the land did not hear me,
The dogs of the land did not hear me;
The young lads of the land heard me.
They came out to see
Who was wandering the woodland path.
I was wandering the woodland path,
A brazen kettle at my side,
A silver cloth upon the kettle,
A clasp of tin upon the cloth.
The tin began to burn,
The silver began to glow.
Whom did I call to quench it?
Kalev's boy, the little lad.
He was quick to quench it,
He brought the clouds to the fire.
In the clouds were drops of water,
In the drop was a little sail,
In the sail was a red goose,
The goose had a blue tail,
A lordly bed upon the tail.
Who was in the bed?
It was the son of Kurland's king,
The daughter of Finland's great lord —
They were there in the lordly bed.
Colophon
These twelve mythological songs are translated from the Estonian source text in Fr. Kreutzwald and H. Neus, Mythische und Magische Lieder der Ehsten (St. Petersburg: Buchdruckerei der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1854), pp. 22–66. The German translations by Neus, published alongside the Estonian originals, were consulted as interpretive reference throughout. The collection represents some of the earliest systematic recording of Estonian sacred oral tradition, undertaken in the 1840s and early 1850s as these songs were vanishing from living memory.
The songs preserve fragments of a pre-Christian Estonian cosmology: the Old Father (Taara, cognate with Norse Þórr) as creator, the cosmic oak that grows to block heaven, four air maidens who weave the garments of sun and moon, Wanemuine as the god of song and waters, celestial roads through rainbows and morning-light, and sacred festivals of nine nights. The collection was published by the Imperial Academy of Sciences through the efforts of Anton Schiefner, who wrote the preface.
Compiled, translated, and formatted for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026. Translated from the Estonian by Vös III of the Tulku Lineage, with Neus's German consulted for reference.
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Source Text: Ehstnische Mythische Lieder
Estonian source text from Fr. Kreutzwald and H. Neus, Mythische und Magische Lieder der Ehsten (St. Petersburg, 1854). Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.
1. Laulaja
Kui mina akkan laulemaie,
Luulemaie, laulemaie:
Siis jääb küla kuulamaie,
Saksad serwi seisamaie,
Möisa ulk jääb mötlemaie,
Kuulama mino sönasi.
Tuleb taga largem aega,
Parem pidu meie pölwe:
Siis ma laulan muiste laulud,
Loksutan lauliko lugusi,
Mis ma Arjusta arwasin,
Mis ma Wirusta wedasin,
Mis ma Läänest lunastasin,
Järwast järgu pärisin.
Seal laulan tule tuisusse,
Lohna lume angesse,
Panen pilwed pölemaie,
Lume kibemed kumendama!
Nii on wanast Wiiru wisi,
Järwa lauliku loomused!
Kui ma lausa lugu laulan:
Mito wöib obu wedada,
Mito körbi keeritada,
Lina lak ehk liigutada?
Kannaks Kaalewi obuda
Oksina mo laulu ulgad!
2. Loomismüüdid
A
Lähme luulma lugusida,
Wana sönu sölmimaie,
Söbra andeid seadlemaie,
Jögesida jölgimaie,
Meresida mängimaie,
Kaljosida karglemaie:
Mis nad kullast kuulutawad,
Höbedasta ilmutawad,
Wanemuinest muistetawad,
Taara tarkusest teadlewad.
Ükskord, ükskord ilmus ilma,
Ilmus ilma ilusama,
Ükskord taewa tehtanessa,
Tehtanessa targelasta,
Tähtetega tapilista,
Pilulista pilwetega.
Teadsin taewa tehtanessa,
Kuule koda kolgitille,
Pesa päiwa päälikulle,
Teista jälle tähtedelle.
B
Löime loodi louneella,
Kude koido kodaje,
Päramised pääwa tare.
Sealt neid siidi sinisida,
Sambia karwa sammetida,
Poogeliste punesiida,
Kulla kirja kollasiida
Kangasjalul kolksotie,
Tallaspuiel tantsitille.
Seal nee kangad kudutie,
Löuendida loksutie,
Misga ilma ilustati,
Taewa weeri wärwitati,
Pilwesiida pallistati,
Ilma kaared kirjutati
Eha aeal ülgamaie,
Pääwa lousul punetaie.
Sealta tehti tähtelista,
Wikkerkaare wikkelista,
Kooti kuule kulla kuube,
Paiste reiwi päikiselle. —
Wana isa, wana tarka,
Oli tööda toimetanud,
Ilusaste ilma loonud!
C
Knus on kuldseid kuulutusi,
Höbedaisi ilmutusi,
Mis ma känkast kündelesin,
Mägi alta meelitasin,
Kaljo alta küsitellin.
Teadsin joge tehtanesse,
Püha joge piiranesse,
Ema jöge jälgenesse.
Jögi jooksis üle ilma,
Jooksis joalta järweni,
Järwest järgulta mereni.
Teadsin merda määramaie,
Mere urkaid urgamaie,
Teadsin kalu külwatie,
Kudu kodasi korjatie.
Wana isa külwas kalu,
Külwas kalu kaswamaie,
Kala kudu kosumaie,
Urgastesse uinomaie,
Pääwa paiste paisomaie.
Teadsin metsi määramaie,
Kuusikesida kölwatama,
Saarikuida seementama,
Tammikuida taimendama,
Lohmusida loomamaie.
Wana isa kölwas metsa,
Külwas metsa kaswamaie,
Wösandikko wösumaie,
Tammikuida töusemaie,
Saarikuida seisamaie.
Teadsin tamme tärkawada,
Taara tamme töusewada.
Tamme kaswis kesket ilma,
Kesket ilma ilusama;
Kaswis taewa körgusella,
Ladwa pilwi lahutades,
Oksad tuulta takkistamas.
Tamme joudis, tamme töusis,
Tamme töusis taewaani,
Peitessa pääwa paitusse,
Warjutesse kuude walgust,
Kustutes table kumada.
3. Imepuu
Läksin merda kiikumaie,
Meere ääri äigamaie,
Rehad kuldased käessa,
Höbedasta reha pulgad,
Waskirta reha warreda.
Mis ma riisusin meresta,
Mis ma äigin laenetesta?
Riisusin tamme risuda,
Aigasin tamme tarbe pauksa.
Kes se tamme tousetanud,
Tamme kasu kaswatanud?
Waast oll wanem Päiwa poega,
Taara poega ise tarka:
Tamme tonid teinud maaha,
Teimid maaha kütimaale,
Loomusmaale kaswamaie,
Audund maale idanema.
Tamme tousis, tamme jöudis,
Tousis waksa korguselle,
Kahe waksa kangusella.
Seal tuli tuhinal tuuluke,
Weeres wihinal wihmuke.
Tuule tostis tammekese,
Wihma wellis wäätikese,
Töstsid tamme töusemaie,
Weike tamme wenimaie.
Tamme tousis, tamme jöudis,
Tamme tousis taewa alla,
Pilutas pilwed puistamaie,
Taewa läge langemaie,
Kippus pääwa peitemaie,
Kippus kuuda kustutama,
Tähäkesi tappemaie.
7. Wanemuise Laul
Laulo loode luuletaja,
Luuletaja, laulo kikkas,
Wanemuine muisle rikas
Istus künkal küürakile,
Küürakile kuusiralla,
Kimlas kiuro kutsumiista,
Laulo raästa räakimista,
Kägo kulda kukkumista,
Künnilinnol öksatusta,
Pesilinno pajatusta,
Tuwikese tuikamista,
Lese linno leina laulo.
Sealta seadis sönasiida,
Sonasiida sölmituie,
Lugusiida lustilisi,
Haleduse haigamisi,
Misga noore naljatusi,
Kurba meele kurwastusi
Lugodesse lüganesse,
Laulodesse lepitasse.
Source Colophon
Estonian source text from Fr. Kreutzwald and H. Neus, Mythische und Magische Lieder der Ehsten (St. Petersburg: Buchdruckerei der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1854). Public domain — published 1854, both authors deceased before 1900. The OCR text was obtained from a Google Books digitization of the original print edition held by European research libraries. Songs 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12 are included in the translation above but their Estonian originals are extensive; selected key songs (1, 2, 3, 7) are reproduced here as representative samples. The complete Estonian text is freely available at archive.org and Google Books.
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