From the Collection of Zacharias Topelius (1822)
These are the eleven Old Songs from the very first volume of Finnish folk poetry ever published — Zacharias Topelius the Elder's Suomen Kansan Vanhoja Runoja ynnä myös Nykyisempiä Lauluja ("Old Songs of the Finnish People, together with Newer Songs and Lays"), printed in Turku in 1822. Topelius (1781–1831), a district physician in Nykarleby, Ostrobothnia, collected these songs from Finnish and Karelian singers during his travels across northern Finland and Russian Karelia in the 1810s. This is the earliest printed collection of Finnish oral poetry — the foundation stone on which the entire Kalevala tradition would be built.
These songs are the DNA of the Kalevala. Elias Lönnrot, who would publish the first Kalevala in 1835, was directly inspired by Topelius's collections. Many of the songs here — the making of beer, the origin of the kantele, the cosmogonic creation from an egg — reappear in the Kalevala in expanded and rearranged form. But these are the earlier, rawer versions: shorter, more fragmentary, preserving the oral performer's transitions, breaks, and variant readings that Lönnrot would later smooth into continuous narrative. The Kauko-Mieli adventure cycle presented here is the most primitive published form of the Lemminkäinen myth — the hero's journey to the underworld, his duel at the sun-god's feast, and his flight by sea, all woven into the beer-brewing narrative without the structural divisions Lönnrot would later impose.
The volume also contains a section of "Newer Songs" — patriotic odes, verse fables, and occasional poetry — which fall outside the folk tradition and are not translated here. Source text from Project Gutenberg (EBook #54449), produced by Jari Koivisto from the 1822 Turku first edition.
Preface
Topelius's own introduction to the collection, written in Nykarleby, January 1822.
The only monuments remaining to us of our forefathers' ways, their character, their deeds and customs, are their songs — their Runes. These remarkable verses traveled for centuries from generation to generation without the aid of writing, by memory alone, down to our own times. To the great loss of the Finnish people, most of these Runes have already perished, and the same fate threatens those that still survive. In many parishes people barely know what a Rune or a Kantele is, and very few are the places where old customs are still followed — where after the day's work, or at other gatherings, young folk assemble to hear the old woman's counsel and the bearded hero's sayings.
In these days when the Finnish people are being enlightened by scholars in every way, let us also try to preserve our forefathers' beautiful Runes from the inevitable ruin of time. From them we learn to know a people who, though darker in learning, were brave, bold, honest, and with remarkable diligence sought the causes and foundations of natural things. Everything the Old Ones could not explain in the ordinary way, they held to be wonders — hence the many Origin-songs, Charms, and Incantations, hence the many little Gods and their wonder-works, that are always found in the old Runes, of which this collection is a specimen. May this also be an encouragement to other countrymen who still possess Runes to make them public.
Most of these Runes were collected in Ostrobothnia, in the regions of Oulu and Kajaani, and some in the provinces of Olonets and Arkhangelsk, as can be noticed from the speech. A few have been printed before, perhaps in old and now nearly vanished books. A second part of this book is nearly ready for publication and will be issued if, as I hope, this first part is found pleasing and acceptable to my dear countrymen.
— Z. Topelius, Nykarleby, January 1822
I. The Singer's Opening Song
Laulajan alku-virsi — the ritual invocation before singing. The singer claims kinship with his companion, then declares his words came not from his mother's teaching but through walls, through mosses, through birch-bark — and from the Lapp who once sang them on the reindeer's calving grounds.
Dear brother, beautiful blade,
My companion of mouth and word,
My partner of the tongue!
Shall we now set forth to singing,
Press ourselves to the work of verse,
Set hand into hand,
Flesh to other flesh,
Fingers following the player,
Setting forth to sing,
Coming forth to speak
These words that were gotten —
That the old woman once taught,
That my own parent instructed
While turning the distaff,
While twisting the spindle,
While out at the herding
Behind dark Muurikki.
But — these are not the old woman's teaching,
Not my own parent's instruction —
They are my own gotten words,
Snatched by me from the road.
From outside I heard runes,
Through the wall, utterances,
Through the mosses, words,
Through the birch-bark, judgments.
Thus the Lapp once sang,
The consecrated old one rolled forth
On the reindeer's calving grounds,
On Lapland's children's fields.
II. The Singer's Closing Song
Laulajan loppu-virsi — the ritual closing. The singer stops, yielding to the better singers who fill the room. He winds his song into a ball and locks it inside bone-locks — where it shall not escape until the bones rattle and the tongue tips.
I will not stretch my singing further,
Perhaps I cannot manage it;
There would be other words,
Other utterances —
Here are six listening,
Seven watching,
The ceiling is full of singers,
The back wall full of wise men,
Every corner full of enchanters,
Every pen full of seers.
Let us leave off, let us quit,
Let us yield, let us finish
For better singers,
For more skillful rune-men.
I wind my song into a ball,
I shape it into a skein,
I put it at the head of the granary loft,
Inside the bone-locks,
Where it shall not escape by day,
Nor get clear in any age,
Without the bones rattling,
Without the jaw spreading,
Without the teeth scattering,
Without the tongue tipping.
III. The Making of Beer
Oluen teko — the longest and most complex song in the collection. It begins with Osmotar's brewing of the first beer, then shifts through a performance transition into the complete Kauko-Mieli (Lemminkäinen) adventure: the hero's journey to Tuonela's river, his duel at Päivölä's feast, and his flight by sea. In the Kalevala, Lönnrot would distribute this material across several cantos; here it remains in its raw composite form, as sung.
The Brewing
Osmotar, the Beer-Smith,
Kapo, maker of ales —
For a month the stones were heated,
For a summer the water was boiled,
The wilderness trees were burned,
Wilderness trees, island soils,
The small ones for war's fire,
The great ones for the herdsman's blaze.
The beer was set for a winter:
Got the beer into the brew
But could not get it to ferment.
Osmotar, the Beer-Smith,
Took a splinter from the floor,
A chip from the floorboard's joint,
A sliver from the middle of the floor,
Rubbed both her palms together,
Wrung them both
Against both her thighs —
Rubbed forth a white squirrel.
Thus she counseled her child,
Instructed her little squirrel:
"My little squirrel, my little bird,
My own orphan child!
Run where I bid you —
Across one river, along another,
A third a little slant-wise.
Climb into a tiny tree,
Neatly into the garden-top,
Where the eagle shall not scratch you
Nor the bird of the air strike you.
Bite a cone as you go,
Carry two in your claws,
Carry them into Kapo's hand,
Bring them to Osmotar's shoulder."
Osmotar put them in her beer,
Kapo cast them in her ale —
But the beer would not ferment,
Nor the young folk's drink rise,
Nor the ale swell
In the oaken vat,
Behind the copper tap.
Osmotar, the Beer-Smith,
Took a splinter from the floor,
A chip from the floorboard's joint,
A sliver from the middle of the floor,
Rubbed both her palms together,
Wrung them both
Against both her thighs —
Rubbed forth a golden-breasted marten.
Thus she counseled her marten,
Instructed her orphan child:
"My little marten, my little bird!
Go where I bid you —
Over one hill, along another,
A third a little slant-wise,
To the far end of the north-fields,
To the bear's stone hollow,
To the forest bear's farmyard,
Where stallions are fighting,
Where studs do equal battle.
Gather foam from their muzzles,
Pour froth with your hands,
Carry it into Kapo's hand,
Bring it to Osmotar's shoulder —
My little marten, my little bird!"
Quickly it ran, swift on the way,
Nimbly it strode the distances —
Over one hill, along another,
A third a little slant-wise.
Gathered foam from the muzzles,
Poured froth with its hands,
Carried it into Kapo's hand,
Brought it to Osmotar's shoulder.
Osmotar put it in her beer,
Kapo cast it in her ale.
Then the beer took to fermenting,
Then the young folk's drink rose,
The ale swelled
In the oaken vat,
Behind the copper tap.
Then spoke the red beer:
"If you do not provide a singer,
I will kick my hoops apart
And burst my bottom out."
"A salmon has been brought as singer,
Another fish as mourner."
"There is no singer in the salmon,
No musician in the fish —
The salmon has itself been enchanted."
Let the sled break from the rune-singer,
The runner snap from the singer,
On the stony church-road,
On the icy steps,
At the turning of Ahi's fence,
At the rascal's gate.
— — — — — — — —
Kauko-Mieli's Journey to Tuonela
Himself, handsome Kauko-Mieli,
Went to fetch a horse from Tuonela,
A stallion from Manala.
He called and cried out
There at Tuonela's river,
At Manala's lower house:
"Bring a boat, Daughter of Death,
Child of Doom, a barge!"
The Daughter of Death rebuked him,
The Child of Doom scolded:
"A boat will be brought from here
When a reason is told.
What brought you to Manala
Without plague killing you,
Without other death destroying you?"
"Iron brought me to Manala."
The Daughter of Death rebuked him,
The Child of Doom scolded:
"I know a liar already,
I can tell a deceiver.
If iron had brought you to Manala,
Blood would flow from your clothes,
Gore would be streaming.
What brought you to Manala
Without plague killing you,
Without other death destroying you?"
"Fire brought me to Manala."
The Daughter of Death rebuked him,
The Child of Doom scolded:
"If fire had brought you to Manala,
Fire would glow from your clothes,
Flame would be glimmering.
From that I know a liar,
I can tell a deceiver.
What brought you to Manala?"
"I went to fetch a horse from Tuonela,
A stallion from Manala."
The Daughter of Death rebuked him,
The Child of Doom scolded:
"What sort of man might you be,
And who among heroes,
That the dogs did not hear you,
The watchdogs did not sense you?
You came in through the corner,
Got inside through the latch."
"I did not come here of my own will,
Not of my seeking, not my knowing,
Not of my desire, not my remembering,
To the fires of the unknown,
To the fields of the uncharmed.
The dogs did not hear me,
The watchdogs did not sense me."
The Daughter of Death rebuked him,
The Child of Doom scolded:
"We have a son at home,
A spinner of iron wire,
A weaver of copper nets,
There in Tuonela's river,
In Manala's lower house."
The stranger answered quickly:
"I know a trick for that,
A trick I know, a turn I think of —
As a worm I will crawl the nets,
I will pass as a snake
There in Tuonela's river."
Kauko-Mieli at Päivölä's Feast
He went to Päivölä's feast,
To the good company's drinking.
— — — — — — — —
Osmotar, the Beer-Smith,
Kapo, maker of ales,
Thus she counseled her marten,
Instructed her orphan child:
"Invite the wretched, invite the poor,
Row the blind in boats,
Drive the lame on horseback —
Do not invite Kauko-Mieli,
He is handsome Kauko-Mieli."
"How shall I know Kauko-Mieli?"
"In the bay of the far cape,
The rascal is at the point of the cape.
Kauko-Mieli's eye is squinting,
The rascal's nose is crooked."
He was ploughing the field,
Heard the invitations carrying,
The horses galloping free.
He rose from the ground to horseback,
Straightway headed home
To the house of his former mother,
To his commanding parent.
He spoke upon arriving,
Spoke first to his mother:
"O my Mother, old woman!
Bring me my war-clothes,
My very battle-garments!
I am going to Päivölä's feast,
To the good company's drinking."
His mother forbade him, the woman commanded,
Two maidens refused him,
Three Daughters of Nature forbade him:
"Do not go, my son —
There are many wonders on your road,
Many marvels in your way."
"What is the first wonder?"
"This is the first wonder:
They will enchant you there
Into your own sword,
Into the edge of your own making."
He took his own sword,
Thrust it hilt-first into the ground.
It turned in his hand
Like a dry aspen leaf,
Or a squirrel's skin.
"That is not a man's death,
Not a hero's ending.
O my Mother, old woman!
Bring me my war-clothes,
My very battle-garments!
I am going to Päivölä's feast,
To the good company's drinking."
His mother forbade, the woman commanded,
Two maidens refused,
Three Daughters of Nature forbade:
"What is the second wonder?"
"A great coil of serpents,
Tongues flickering upward,
Over Kauko-Mieli's head."
"I have lately ploughed the serpent-field,
Subdued the earth-worms,
Turned the adders,
Swallowed the viper, harnessed the snake,
Chained the bear in irons,
Saddled the serpent,
Bridled vipers of ten parishes.
That is not a man's death,
Not a hero's ending.
Bring me my war-clothes,
Carry my battle-garments!"
His mother forbade, the woman commanded,
Two maidens refused,
Three Daughters of Nature forbade:
"There are many wonders on your road,
Many marvels in your way."
"What is the third wonder?"
"This is the third wonder:
There comes a river of fire,
In the river a fiery rapids,
In the rapids a fiery island,
On the island a fiery birch,
In the birch a fiery eagle
That sharpens its teeth by night,
Hones its claws —
Over Kauko-Mieli's head."
Then handsome Kauko-Mieli
Spoke a word, said thus:
"I know a trick for that,
A trick I know, a turn I think of.
I will sing an alder boat,
I will sing an alder man
Into the alder boat
To sail past me,
To journey alongside.
On that vessel I will pass.
O my Mother, old woman,
Bring me my war-clothes,
My very battle-garments!
I am going to Päivölä's feast,
To the good company's drinking."
"Do not go, my son —
There is still a wonder, a fourth wonder:
A hundred stakes on the hill,
Every stake full of heads,
One stake left headless —
Over Kauko-Mieli's head."
Said handsome Kauko-Mieli:
"I know a trick for that,
A trick I know, a turn I think of.
I will take fists from a dead man,
A head from one who has perished,
For that stake as well.
O my Mother, old woman,
Bring me my war-clothes,
My very battle-garments!
I am going to Päivölä's feast,
To the good company's drinking."
His mother forbade, the woman commanded,
Two maidens refused,
Three Daughters of Nature forbade:
"My son, my youngest!
If you make it to the drinking,
Into the merry crowd's revel —
Drink half a cup,
Give the other half to another,
The better half to the worse.
Then you will become a man
Among men's company,
In the manly throng,
In the heroic host."
Thus they warned him thoroughly,
At the doorstep, under the cross-beam,
At the glove-dropping place,
At the hat's thin brim.
Yet he went, did not obey,
Rose from the ground to horseback,
Went to Päivölä's feast,
To the good company's drinking.
He spoke upon arriving:
"Has all the food been eaten here?"
"Eaten the food, drunk the drink,
Cups piled in heaps,
Tankards stacked in rows."
"What is that to me?
From my own barley,
From my own sown grain!
Others carried it in ladles,
Others tipped it in drops —
I measured it in bushels,
I carried it by double measure,
My own barley,
My own sown grain.
Bring me a tankard of beer,
Carry me a two-handled cup!"
Then the Son of the Day
Brought a tankard of beer —
Yeast below, froth above,
In the middle the red ale,
Serpents crawling on the rim,
Snakes hissing around it.
Then handsome Kauko-Mieli
Took a fish-hook from its sheath,
A barbed iron from his pouch.
"Rubbish to the ground, food to the mouth!"
He drank the ale for his good fortune,
The dark mead for his pleasure.
He spoke after drinking:
"The tankard-bringer to Tuonela,
The cup-carrier to Manala!
Let us compare our swords,
Let us measure our blades —
Whoever has the finer sword,
Whoever has the mightier blade,
He shall be first to strike."
Said the Son of the Day:
"My sword is the better,
My blade the finer."
Said handsome Kauko-Mieli:
"Let us go outside to the yard!
We will smear the washed benches,
We will wash the floors with blood.
Blood is better in the yard,
Prettier for the children.
Let us measure our blades,
Let us compare our swords —
Since yours is the better blade,
You shall be first to strike."
The Son of the Day struck —
Did not nick even the flesh,
Did not take even the skin.
Said handsome Kauko-Mieli,
Cut like a turnip-top,
Like a fin from any fish.
He rose from the ground to horseback,
Straightway headed home,
To the house of his former mother.
He spoke upon arriving,
Spoke first to his mother:
"Pack provisions in a sack,
Put flour in the cloth,
Scoop butter in the birch-box.
I am fleeing from my deeds,
Hiding from my crimes.
I killed a man — a hero,
My own uncle's son,
A better man than myself."
His mother counseled her son,
Warned her child thoroughly:
"Go hide yourself —
Rise as a birch on a knoll,
As a pine on the heath."
"Ruin comes there too.
The parsonage's bad labourers
Often an orphaned birch
Is chopped into firewood.
Often a juniper heath
Is hacked into ploughland.
Ruin comes there too."
His mother counseled her son,
Warned her child thoroughly:
"Go hide yourself
In the belly of a sea-fish,
In the tail of a red salmon."
"Ruin comes there too.
There is wanton Lemminkäinen —
He is always on his hook,
Always on his line,
At the tip of the misty cape,
At the head of the wooded island."
"Go hide yourself
In the bear's stone hollow,
In the forest bear's farmyard."
"Ruin comes there too.
The young man of Noventola
Is sharpening his axe
Over Kauko-Mieli's head."
Then handsome Kauko-Mieli
Went to flee from his deeds,
To hide from his crimes.
He hewed a boat on the hill,
Hammered on the cliff —
From the fragments of five spinning-wheels,
From the splinters of six shuttles.
He bedded a hundred maidens
In a single summer's night,
A whole autumn in the bright night.
He went to flee from his deeds,
To hide from his crimes,
Set sail upon the mast.
Then wept the island maidens
When the sail-mast was no longer seen.
They did not weep for the sail-mast —
They wept for the one beneath the sail,
The master of the iron tiller.
IV. Väinämöinen's Wooing
Väinämöisen kosiominen — Väinämöinen courts Tuulikki, Tapio's daughter, who sits on the sky-arch. She sets impossible tasks. He completes the first two but the third — building a boat from spindle-pieces without the axe touching stone — ends in blood. The wound that cannot be stopped. This is the raw form of what becomes the Kalevala's blood-flood episode.
Tuulikki, Tapio's maiden,
Slender daughter-in-law of Honkela,
Beautiful wife of the secret arch,
Sat upon the sky-beam,
Gleamed upon heaven's arc.
Said old Väinämöinen:
"Will you come to me, maiden?"
The maiden answered wisely:
"Then I would call you a man,
Then count you a hero,
If you could split a hair
With a bladeless knife,
With a pointless awl,
And draw an egg into a knot
So the knot cannot be felt."
Steadfast old Väinämöinen
Split the hair in half
With a bladeless knife,
With a pointless awl,
Drew the egg into a knot,
The knot could not be felt.
Said old Väinämöinen:
"Will you come to me, maiden?"
The maiden answered wisely:
"I will not come to you before
You hew a boat
From my distaff's splinters,
From my spindle's pieces,
Without the axe touching stone,
Without a clang upon the cliff."
Steadfast old Väinämöinen
Hewed a boat on the hill,
Hammered on the cliff.
The axe did not touch the stone,
Did not clang upon the cliff.
At last it slipped into the flesh,
Into Väinämöinen's toe,
Into the holy hero's knee.
Blood came flooding forth,
Gore ran like a river.
There was no mound,
No mountain high enough,
That did not fill to flooding
From Väinämöinen's toe,
From the holy hero's knee.
Steadfast old Väinämöinen
Heaved himself into his sled,
Rolled himself into his sleigh,
Drove off yonder to the distant place,
To that cold village.
Over the threshold he asked:
"Is there anyone in this house
To stop this flood,
To dam this rain?"
A child spoke from the floor,
A small one from the bench-end:
"There is no one in this house
To stop this flood,
To halt this vein-rapids.
Go to another house!"
Steadfast old Väinämöinen
Drove to another house,
Over the threshold he asked:
"Is there anyone in this house
To stop this flood,
To dam this rain?"
An old man spoke from behind the table,
The grandfather sang, his head trembling:
"Greater ones have been sealed,
Mightier ones managed —
Rivers at their mouths, straits at their ends,
Bays at the tips of their capes,
Narrows at their narrowest."
V. Väinämöinen and Joukamoinen
Väinämöinen ja Joukamoinen — the knowledge contest on the road. Two sages meet, their sleighs lock. The more knowing one keeps the road. This is the raw form of the Kalevala's third canto — the contest that ends with Joukamoinen ransoming his only sister. The mother rejoices: she had always hoped for Väinämöinen as a son-in-law.
There was old Väinämöinen,
There was young Joukamoinen —
They drove against each other on the road.
Runner caught upon runner,
Shaft-bow tangled with shaft-bow.
Water dripped from the shaft-bow,
Grease from the runner's tip.
Then old Väinämöinen
Spoke these words:
"Whichever of us knows more,
Let him keep the road.
Whichever of us knows less,
Let him turn aside from the road."
Then young Joukamoinen
Spoke these words:
"I too know a little,
I remember some time past:
Tall pines on Pisa's hill,
Firs on Horna's cliff."
Väinämöinen:
"That is not a man's remembering,
Not a bearded hero's."
Joukamoinen:
"I remember some time past:
When lands were sowed,
When hollows were hoed,
Fish-ditches dug,
The sky-pillars set,
The heavens watched over."
Väinämöinen:
"Whichever knows more,
Let him keep the road.
Whichever knows less,
Let him turn aside.
I too know a little.
Those are my own hollows that I hoed,
Fish-ditches that I dug,
Sky-pillars that I set,
Heavens that I watched over.
O you young Joukamoinen —
What will you give as ransom?"
Joukamoinen:
"I give my only stallion —
He runs to drink,
He runs from drinking.
A pond is on his back,
Clear water on his spine,
Water draws in clouds,
He eats the hay from the marshes."
Väinämöinen:
"I spit upon your stallion!
I have one twice as fine,
Three times as handsome.
What will you give as ransom?"
Joukamoinen:
"I give a golden helmet,
A hat full of silver."
Väinämöinen:
"I spit upon your gold!
What will you give as ransom?
I will sing you into the swamp by your belt,
Into the meadow by your breast-flesh,
From your armpit into the heath.
Already it is becoming painful,
Already it is turning agonizing."
Joukamoinen:
"O you old Väinämöinen,
Reverse your holy words!
I give my only sister,
I lend my mother's child —
A warmth for the one who sits beside you,
A shelter for the one who rides the curved bow."
Then old Väinämöinen
Reversed his holy words.
He gave his only sister,
He lent his mother's child —
A warmth for the one who sits beside,
A shelter for the one who rides the curved bow.
He went home weeping.
His mother met him in the yard.
She spoke these words:
"Why do you weep, my son?"
"O my mother, my bearer —
There is cause enough to weep:
I gave my only sister,
I lent my mother's child."
His mother clapped both her hands,
Hummed with both:
"This I have awaited all my life,
Wished through all my years —
Väinämöinen for my son-in-law,
The great man for my kinsman,
A singer for my in-law."
VI. Origin of the World from an Egg
Mailman alku Munasta — the Finnish cosmogonic creation myth in its earliest published form. A squint-eyed Lapp shoots Väinämöinen from his mount. He falls into the sea and drifts for years. A diving duck nests on his knee. When the eggs break, the lower shell becomes the upper sky, the white becomes the sun, the yolk becomes the moon, and the fragments become the stars. This cosmic inversion — the bottom becoming the top — is the oldest published Finnish creation narrative.
The squint-eyed Lapp
Held a week-long grudge
Against old Väinämöinen.
He watched evening, he watched morning
For Väinämöinen to come,
For the man of Uvento to arrive.
He took his truest arrow,
Chose his finest shaft,
Drew his fiery bow
With the hairs of Hiisi's maiden,
With the small feathers of a swallow,
With the bowstrings of wrens.
He shot the blue elk from beneath —
From beneath old Väinämöinen.
Then old Väinämöinen
Turned his palm into the sea,
Fell with his fingers into the waves.
He traveled six years,
Stood seven summers
On the clear open sea,
On the wide water,
Drifted among the spruces as a log,
Among the pines as a block of wood.
He stood upon the open sea.
A diving duck, bird of the air,
Sought a place for its nest,
Made a nest from hay,
Wove it from dried grass.
Then it laid three eggs,
Brooded and incubated.
Then old Väinämöinen
Thought his knee was burning,
His joints growing warm.
He moved his knee.
The eggs rolled into the water,
The eggs rolled into fragments.
The lower half of the egg
Became the upper sky.
And the other egg-fragments
Became the stars in heaven.
What was white in the egg
Became the sun to shine.
What was yolk in the egg
Became the moon to glow.
VII. Väinämöinen Builds a Boat
Väinämöinen tekee venettä — the boat-building song and the descent into Antero Vipunen. Väinämöinen is building a boat by singing but lacks three words to finish it. He seeks them first from forest creatures, then from the giant sage Vipunen who has lain underground so long that trees grow from his shoulders. He falls into Vipunen's mouth and forges a smithy inside his belly, refusing to leave until the words are given. This is the raw form of Kalevala Canto 17.
Old Väinämöinen
Built a boat with knowledge,
Shaped a vessel by singing.
He lacked three words
At the joining of the strakes,
At the fitting of the stern-plank,
At the fixing of the prow,
At the setting of the gunwale-timbers.
He went to seek the words,
To fetch the charms.
"Yonder there would be a hundred words,
A thousand song-examinations
Under the tongue of a summer squirrel,
In the mouth of a white squirrel.
I will strike a drove of reindeer,
I will spread the field-deer,
Squirrels from the high beam."
He did not get a single word,
Not even half a word.
"Yonder there would be a hundred words,
A thousand song-examinations,
In the mouth of Antero Vipunen,
Who has lain a week in the earth,
Rested long in the grove.
Willow-brush upon his beard,
A great aspen on his shoulders,
A squirrel-spruce upon his brows.
There is much traveling to be done,
Much swaying to endure,
And those are evil roads.
One course I must run
Upon the points of women's needles,
A second course I must run
Upon the edges of men's swords."
Then old Väinämöinen
Made his shirt an anvil,
His little finger a bellows,
His elbow a hammer.
He forged men's needfuls,
Bent hooks from his belt,
Forged iron stakes,
Made an iron shaft,
Set a club-iron on it,
Made tempered edges.
Then old Väinämöinen
Ran the first course
Upon the points of women's needles,
Ran the second course
Upon the edges of men's swords.
One foot stumbled,
His left foot slipped —
Into the mouth of Antero Vipunen.
Then old Väinämöinen
Thrust the iron shaft
Into the mouth of Antero Vipunen.
Then Antero Vipunen
Bit off the club-iron,
But did not know how to bite the steel,
Nor how to eat the iron's heart.
Said Antero Vipunen:
"What kind of man might you be,
And who among heroes?
I have eaten a hundred men,
Destroyed a thousand warriors,
But I have never eaten one like this —
Coals come to my mouth,
Embers to my tongue.
Get out of my hooks, wretch,
Get off my road, earth-walker!"
Said old Väinämöinen:
"It is good to be here.
Liver serves as food,
Fat serves as sauce.
I will get a hundred words,
A thousand song-examinations
From the mouth of Antero Vipunen."
He sang a barkless log onto the waters,
A closed-end pipe onto the waves.
He sang one side of the boat
Full of comb-handed bridegrooms,
Comb-handed and bone-combed.
He sang the other side of the boat
Full of tin-headed maidens,
Tin-headed, copper-belted.
He sailed a day on marsh-waters,
A second day on field-waters,
A third day on sea-waters.
The boat got stuck for the singer,
The vessel halted for the rune-man.
Said old Väinämöinen:
"On a stone, or on a sandbar,
Or on a pike's shoulders,
On the water-dog's hooked bones?"
Then old Väinämöinen
Raised his sword from the boat,
Thrust it into the pike's shoulder,
Into the water-dog's hooked bones.
He pulled his vessel free.
It went on, bottom down.
VIII. Origin of the Kantele
Kanteleen Synty — the origin of the kantele, the Finnish sacred harp. A wooden boat weeps because it never goes to war. Väinämöinen launches it, loads it with brides and grooms. They hit a pike's backbone. From the pike's bones he makes the kantele — everyone plays but no joy comes until it returns to the maker's hands. Then all creation weeps and comes to listen: the bear climbs the fence, the Mistress of the Forest presses her breast against the railing, the Water-Mother rises onto a stone. This is the raw form of Kalevala Canto 41.
A wooden boat wept once,
A poor vessel lamented.
Asked old Väinämöinen:
"Why do you weep, wooden boat?
Why do you lament, poor vessel?
Do you weep your woodenness,
Long for your bulkiness?"
"This is why I weep, wooden boat,
This is why I lament, poor vessel:
Other boats go to war,
Other boats tread battles,
They get their fill of silver,
Their sternposts full of pennies.
I rot upon my shavings,
I stretch upon my chippings.
The worst worms of the earth
Live beneath my ribs,
The ugliest birds of the air
Keep their nests in my side
And befoul my gunwale-timber."
Steadfast old Väinämöinen
Pushed the boat to the waters,
The hundred-planked one to the waves.
He loaded one side of the boat
With comb-headed bridegrooms,
Spur-footed gentlemen.
He loaded the other side
With copper-belted maidens.
He himself sat at the stern,
Set the old folk to rowing.
The old ones rowed, their heads trembled —
No joy came to joy,
No stroke matched the strokes.
He set the young folk to rowing.
The young ones rowed, their fingers bent,
The oar-rings whistled like grouse,
The blade-edges clucked like black grouse,
The handles cried out like geese,
The prow glided like a swan,
The stern croaked like a crow.
Now joy came to joy,
Stroke matched the strokes.
He sailed a day on field-waters,
A second day on marsh-waters,
A third day on home-waters.
On the third day already
He hit the pike's shoulders,
The water-dog's hooked bones.
The boat stuck fast.
Steadfast old Väinämöinen
Pondered in his mind:
"On a stone or on a sandbar,
Or on a pike's shoulders,
On the water-dog's hooked bones?"
He pulled his vessel free,
Cast it bottom-down onto the bank.
He examined it, he turned it —
What could a smith make of this,
What could a craftsman forge,
What could a keen man fashion?
He made a harp from the pike's bones,
A kantele from the fish's fins,
From the water-dog's hooked bones.
He set strings on the kantele
From the hairs of Hiisi's maiden,
From the horsehair of a young stallion.
He set nails on the kantele
From the barley of Tuonela's pike,
From the teeth of Tuonela's pike.
The young played, the old played,
The married men played,
The unmarried men played —
No joy came to joy,
No music matched the music.
Said old Väinämöinen:
"Let the joy be brought here,
Let the kantele be carried
To the hands of the one who made it,
To the fingers of the one who shaped it."
He himself sat down to play.
He played the spine of the pike,
The fish-bone kantele,
With small hands, with slender fingers,
His thumb rising lightly.
The young wept, the old wept,
The married men wept,
The unmarried men wept.
Even Väinämöinen himself —
The waters rolled from his eyes,
Splashing down upon his breast,
From his breast onto his knees,
More precious than cranberries,
Rounder than grouse-eggs,
Through five woolen wraps,
Through eight frieze coats.
There was nothing in the forest,
No four-legged runner,
No two-winged glider,
That did not come to listen
When Väinämöinen played,
When the Father made his joy.
Even the bear climbed the fence.
The Mistress of the Forest herself
Pressed her breast against the fence,
Rolled herself to the gate.
There was nothing in the sea,
No six-finned swimmer,
That did not come to listen.
The Water-Mother herself
Pressed her breast against the waves,
Rose upon a water-stone,
Strained upon her watching-place.
A second rune on the same subject begins in this fashion: Old Väinämöinen himself was out looking for a horse, going bare-headed to look, with a summer-colt's bridle at his belt and a foal's harness on his shoulder. He set the horse's trappings on the ground, the horse's jewels on the sand. He found the boat weeping, the vessel lamenting — "Why do you weep, wooden boat?" — and so forth as before.
IX. Origin of the Serpent
Kärmehen synty — an origin charm against snakebite. The charmer addresses the serpent, declares knowledge of its lineage, commands it to take back its own venom, threatens to tell its mother, and enumerates the dark materials from which its body was made: the head from the evil spirit's snare, the eyes from mussel-stone, the teeth from Tuoni's barley-bristle, the tongue from Lempo's spear. This is a syntylaulu — the origin song that gives the charmer power over the thing named.
Earth your father, earth your mother,
Earth the power of your parents,
Soil are you and soil am I,
Common earth we live upon.
Black worm beneath the earth,
Hairy grub of Tuoni!
I know well your kindred,
But not, wretch, your markings —
A leaf's hue, a love's hue,
Heaven's blue hue,
The hue of all the farthest things.
Black worm beneath the earth,
Hairy grub of Tuoni,
Switch beneath the cairn-stones,
Beside the long woodpile,
Treasure beneath the fences!
Through the rotted stumps you go,
Through the tree-roots threading,
Through the locks you pass,
Through the gaps you slither,
Rotten stumps you burrow.
Who raised you from the stubble,
Awakened you from the grass?
Was it your father or your mother,
Or the eldest of your brothers,
Or the youngest of your sisters?
However you may have stung,
Or struck with your teeth —
Let honey melt from your mouth,
Let nectar pour from your tongue,
Drink your hatred as wine,
Your own evil as ale,
Let the mind turn bitter,
Swell and bend to your pains,
Bloat in the frost of your days —
Before I tell your mother,
Speak to your great-parent;
More work for the mother,
Great trouble for the parent,
When the son does evil,
When the child lives harshly.
Whence was the head set on the wicked one?
From the snare of the evil spirit.
Whence were the eyes shaped?
The eye is from the mussel-stone.
Whence were the teeth sought?
From the barley-bristle of Tuoni,
The tongue from Lempo's spear. —
X. The Flour-Rune
Jauho-Runo — a grinding song. The singer wishes for rivers of ale and wheat-land banks, then conjures a magical vision: pillars rise in the yards, oaks spring from the ground, every branch bears an apple, every apple a golden wheel, every wheel a cuckoo pouring gold from its mouth. Then the song drops back to earth: great the stone, small the servant, the grinder weak of strength.
If only rivers were of ale,
The riverbanks of wheat-land!
Even the servants would get ale,
Even the hired folk their brew,
The stone-haulers too their fill.
So I sing, I chant along,
As a little blade I roll,
From my mouth as from a feather-quill,
From my head as from the sun's round cake;
I sing pillars into yards,
Oaks into the middle of the grounds,
Even branches on the oak,
On every branch an apple,
On every apple a golden wheel,
On every golden wheel a cuckoo —
When the cuckoo calls,
Gold wells from its mouth,
Copper flows to the rafter,
Into a golden cup,
Into a copper basket...
Great the stone, small the servant,
The grinder weak of strength.
XI. Son of Kaleva
Kalevan Poika — the earliest published form of the Kullervo myth, the most tragic hero in Finnish mythology. Born with terrible strength, the infant breaks his swaddling in three nights. Sold as a slave to the smith Köyrötyinen, every attempt to destroy him fails — they gouge his eyes, starve him, plague him, burn his cradle. Set to build a fence, he uses whole pines for posts and live serpents for bindings. Set to herd cattle, the smith's wife bakes a stone in his bread to break his knife. He feeds the herd to bears, makes a flute from the cow-bones, and drives the bears home for the mistress to "tie up." The bears obey his command and tear her apart. This is the raw form of what becomes Kalevala Cantos 31–36.
That rascal, son of Kaleva —
When first born from his mother,
Washed upon five water-stones,
At once, in just three nights,
He broke his swaddling-band.
It was seen that good would come,
It was discovered he'd be fit —
He was sold to a stranger,
Traded off to Karelia,
To the smith Köyrötyinen.
Someone was set to watch the child:
Watched the child, gouged out its eyes,
Fed the child, ate himself too,
Killed the child with sickness,
Burned the cradle with fire.
He asked for work in the evening,
From the master for the night,
From the mistress for the morning.
Let the slave's work be named,
Let a name be given to the work.
He was set to fence-building.
Already he builds fence —
Whole tall pines from the ground
He sets as fence-posts,
Whole wilderness spruces
He drives in as stakes.
Then he belted the fence with earth-serpents,
Tied it tight with lizards.
Then the smith Köyrötyinen
Goes himself to look
At the fence of Kaleva's son,
The dear one's handiwork —
He saw heads moving,
Tails rattling
In the fence of Kaleva's son,
In the dear one's construction.
He asks for work in the evening,
From the master for the night,
From the mistress for the morning.
He was set as cattle-herder.
The wife of the smith Köyrötyinen
Baked a stone into his bread,
Pressed a flat-stone in his cake,
Set oat-meal below,
Stretched wheat-flour above;
Put it in the herder's bosom:
"Do not eat this yet —
Not till the cattle come home."
He pulled his knife into the stone,
Dashed it against the rock.
"With what shall I repay the maid's mockery,
The maid's mockery, the woman's scorn?
How repay the evil wife?
Go, day, to the spruce-wood,
Roll to the wheat-thicket,
To the breaking juniper-grove."
He fed the cattle to bears,
Drove the bears home,
The spotted herd to the farmyard,
Made a flute from cow-bones,
A horn from the ox's horns;
Playing thus he comes,
Kullering on the heath.
Said the wife of Köyrötyinen:
"Praised be God!
The horn sounds, the cattle come!
Where did the servant get a horn,
The smith's boy a smooth whistle?
It blows right through my ears,
It steams through my head."
He drove the bears home,
The bears spotted to the farmyard,
Bid the old woman tie them:
"Go tie up the cows,
Go set up the cattle."
"The herder always tied the cows,
The herder always set the cattle."
She put the bears in chains,
Set the wolves in irons;
He counseled his bears,
Spoke face to face with his wolves:
"Tear off the mistress's thigh."
The bear seized the heel,
Tore off the mistress's thigh.
Thus he avenged the maid's mockery,
Repaid the woman's scorn,
Paid the evil wife her wages.
Colophon
Ancient Songs of the Finnish People — Volume I (Suomen Kansan Vanhoja Runoja ynnä myös Nykyisempiä Lauluja, I) — the very first collection of Finnish folk poetry ever published. Compiled by Zacharias Topelius the Elder (1781–1831), district physician in Nykarleby, Ostrobothnia, from singers across northern Finland and Russian Karelia in the 1810s. Published in Turku, 1822.
These eleven songs — the Old Songs (Vanhoja Runoja) from the collection — are the earliest printed forms of the Finnish mythological tradition. They predate the Kalevala by thirteen years. The Making of Beer, Väinämöinen's Wooing, the Joukamoinen contest, the creation from an egg, the origin of the kantele, and the Kullervo myth all appear here in raw sung form, before Lönnrot shaped them into the national epic. The six "Newer Songs" (Nykyisempiä Lauluja) — patriotic odes, verse fables, and occasional poetry — fall outside the folk tradition and are not included.
Translated from Finnish by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, March 2026, for the Good Work Library at tianmu.org.
This is a Good Works Translation: the English text was independently derived from the Finnish source. No prior complete English translation of this collection exists. The translation follows the Kalevala meter's natural cadence — trochaic octosyllabic verse with parallelism — rendering each line as a verse line in English to preserve the sung form.
Source text from Project Gutenberg (EBook #54449), produced by Jari Koivisto from the 1822 Turku first edition. The Finnish original is in the public domain.
Compiled and formatted for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026.
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Source Text: Suomen Kansan Vanhoja Runoja
Finnish source text from Zacharias Topelius, Suomen Kansan Vanhoja Runoja ynnä myös Nykyisempiä Lauluja, I (Turku, 1822). Project Gutenberg EBook #54449, produced by Jari Koivisto. Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.
Vanhoja Runoja.
Laulajan alku-virsi.
Veli kulta, veito kaunis,
Suullinen sanolliseni,
Kielellinen kumppanini!
Joko laululle lähemme,
Virtten töille työntelemme,
Panemma käen kätehen,
Lihan toisehen lihaan,
Sormet soittajan mukahan,
Lähteännä laulamahan,
Saahanna sanelemahan,
Näitä saatuja sanoja,
Joita ennen Eukko neuvo,
Oma vanhempi opetti,
Kehrävartta kiertessähän,
Väätessähän värttänätä,
Paimenessa käyessähän,
Mustan Muurikin jälissä.
Vaan -- ei ole Eukon neuvomista,
Oman vanhemman opista --
Itep' on saamani sanani,
Ite tieltä tempomani.
Ulkoa runoja kuulin,
Läpi seinän lausehia,
Läpi sammalten sanoja
Läpi tuohten tuomioita.
Nuinni ennen Lappi laulo,
Vihki [taikka väki] vanha vierätteli,
Poron poikima-sioilla,
Lapin lapsi-tanterilla.
Laulajan loppu-virsi.
Empä sinne laajon laula,
Ehk' en tarkon taiakkahan;
Olisi muitain sanoja,
Toisihia lausehia,
Tässä on kuusi kuulemassa,
Seittemän tähyämässä,
Laki on täynnä laulajita,
Peräseinä tietäjitä,
Joka loukko loihtioita,
Karsina kaehtioita.
Herennemmä, heittänemmä,
Luonnemma, lopettanemma
Paremmille laulajille,
Taitavammille runoille.
Käärin virteni kerälle,
Sovittelen sommelolle,
Panen aitan parven päähän,
Luisten lukkujen sisälle,
Jost' ei pääse päivinähän,
Selviä sinä ikänä,
Ilman luien lonsumata,
Leukaen leviämätä,
Hammasten hajoamata,
Kielen keikkelehtämätä.
Oluen teko.
Osmotar Oluen Seppä,
Kapo [taikka Kaveh] kaljojen tekiä.
Kuu kiviä kuumettihin,
Kesä vettä keitettihin,
Salo puita poltettihin,
Salo puita, saari maita,
Pienetkö soan tuleksi,
Suuret paimenen paloksi.
Pantihin olutta talvi:
Sai oluen panneheksi;
Vaan ei saanut hapanneeksi.
Osmotar Oluen Seppä
Otti puikon lattialta,
Liikku sillan liitoksella
Laaho keski laattialla,
Hiero kahta kämmentänsä,
Hykersi molompiansa
Molompihin reisihinsä,
Hiero valkian oravan;
Noin se neuvo poikoansa
Oravaistansa opetti:
"Oravainen lintuiseni,
Orpolapseni omani!
Juokse tuonne kunne käsken,
Joki poikki, toinen pitkin,
Kolmas on vähän vitahan.
Nouse puuhun pienosehen
Taiten tarha-latvasehen,
Joss' ei kokko kopraseisi,
Eikä iskis ilman lintu,
Käpy pure käyessäsi,
Kanna kaksi kynnessäsi,
Ne kanna Kavon kätehen,
Tuoppa olalle Osmottaren."
Osmotar oluehensa
Kapo pisti kaljahansa;
Vaan ei ota olu hapata,
Eikä nouse nuorten juoma,
Ylene kavesten kalja,
Nassakassa tammisessa,
Tapin vaskisen takana.
Osmotar Oluen Seppä
Otti puikon laattialta,
Liikku sillan liitoksella,
Laaho keski laattialla,
Hiero kahta kämmentänsä,
Hykersi molompiansa
Molompihin reisihinsä;
Hiero nää-än kulta-rinnan.
Niin se neuvo näätäänsä,
Orpolastansa opetti:
"Näätäseni lintuiseni!
Mene tuonne kunne käsken,
Mäki pokki, toinen pitkin,
Kolmas on vähän vitahan,
Pohjon peltojen perille,
Kontion kivi-kololle,
Metsän karhun kartanolle,
Jossa tammat tappelevat,
Orihit tasan panoovi.
Koprin kuonoa kokoa,
Käsin vaahtea valuta,
Ne kanna Kavon kätehen,
Tuo olalle Osmottaren,
Näätäseni lintuiseni!" --
Pian juoksi, matkat joutu,
Väleä välit samosi,
Mäen poikki, toisen pitkin,
Kolmannen vähän vitahan,
Kopran kuonoa kokosi,
Käsin vaahtea valutti;
Ne kanto Kavon kätehen,
Toi olalle Osmattaren:
Osmotar pani oluehensa
Kapo pisti kaljahansa.
Siit' otti olut hapata,
Siitä nousi nuorten juoma,
Yleni kavetten kalja,
Nassakassa tammisessa,
Tapin vaskisen takana.
Niin sano olut punanen:
"Kuin et laita laulajata,
Potkin poikki vanteheni,
Ulos pohjani porotan".
"Lohi on tuotu laulajaksi
Muu kala murehtiaksi".
"Ei oo lohessa laulajata
Kalassa karehtiata,
Laulettu lohi itekkin".
Rikkohon reki runolta,
Jalas taittu laulajalta,
Kivisellä kirkkotiellä,
Potisella portahalla,
Ahin aijan kääntymessä
Veitikän veräjän suussa.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Itse kaunis Kauko Mieli
Läksi Tuonelta oroa,
Manalalta vääntiötä.
Niin hän huutaa hujahutti
Tuossa Tuonelan joessa,
Manalan ala-majassa:
"Tuo venettä Tuonen Tyttö
Lapsi kalman karpasoa!"
Tuonen Tyttö se toruupi
Lapsi kalman kalkuttaapi:
"Venet täältä tuotanehen
Kuin syy sanottanehen;
Mikä sun Manallen tuotti,
Ilman tauin tappamata,
Muun surman murentamata?"
"Rauta mun Manallen tuotti".
Tuonen Tyttö se toruupi
Lapsi kalman kalkuttaapi:
"Jo tunnen valehtelian
Ymmärtelen kielastajan;
Jos rauta Manallen toisi
Veri vaattehes valuisi
Hurmehin hurahteleisi.
Mikä sun Manallen tuotti,
Ilman tauin tappamata,
Muun surman murentamata?"
"Tuli mun Manallen tuotti".
Tuonen Tyttö se toruupi,
Lapsi kalman kalkuttaapi:
"Kuin tuli Manallen toisi,
Tuli vaattehes valuisi,
Valkia valahteleisi;
Tuosta tunnen valehtelian,
Ymmärtelen kielastajan;
Mikä sun Manallen saatto?"
"Läksin Tuonelta oroa
Manalalta vääntiötä".
Tuonen Tyttö se toruupi
Lapsi kalman kalkuttaapi:
"Mikä sie lienet miehiänsä,
Ja kuka urohiansa,
Kuin ei sua koirat kuullu,
eikä haukkujat havannu,
Tulit nurkasta tupahan,
Sait sisälle salvamoista".
"Empä tänne tullutkana
Tavoittani, tiiottani,
Mahittani, muistittani,
Tuntemattomain tulille,
Taiottomain tanterille,
Eikä mua koira kuullu
Eikä haukkujat havannu".
Tuonen Tyttö se toruupi
Lapsi kalman kalkuttaapi:
"Ompa meillä poika koissa
Rauta-langan kehriätä
Vaski-verkkojen kutoja
Tuohon Tuonelan jokehen,
Manalan alus-majahan".
Vieras varsin vastojaapi:
"Kyllä mä siihen mutkan muistan,
Mutkan muistan, keinon keksin,
Matona matelen verkot,
Kuljen kyinä kärmehinä,
Tuossa Tuonelan joessa."
Meni Päivilän pitohin
Hyvän joukon juominkihin.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Osmotar Oluen Seppä,
Kapo kaljojen tekiä,
Nuin se neuvo näätäänsä
Orpolastansa opetti:
"Kutsu kurjat, kutsu köyhät,
Sokiat venehin soua,
Rammat ratsahin ajele,
Älä kutsu Kauko-mieltä,
Se on kaunis Kauko-mieli".
"Mistäs tunnen Kauko-mielen?"
"Kauko-niemen kainalossa,
Veitikkä on nenässä niemen,
Kauko-mielen silmä karsas
Veitikän nenä nykärä".
Hän oli pellon kyntämässä,
Kuuli kutsut kulkovaksi,
Ratsut jouten juoksevaksi.
Nousi maasta ratsahille,
Kohta lähtein kotia
Luokse entisen emonsa
Tykö valto-vanhempansa.
Sano sinne saatuonsa,
Sano ensinnä emollen:
"Oi Emoni, vaimo vanha!
Tuo minulle sota-sopani
Varsin vaino-vaatteheni,
Lähen Päivilän pitohin
Hyvän joukon juominkihin".
Emo kielti, vaimo käski,
Epäsi kavehta kaksi
Kielti kolme Luonnotarta.
"Ellös lähe poikuoni,
Monet on kummat matkoillasi,
Monet tielläsi imehet."
"Mikä on kumma ensimmäinen?"
"Se on kumma ensimmäinen,
Lauletaan sinua siellä
Omahasi miekkahasi,
Terähän tekemähäsi".
Otti miekkansa omansa,
Perin peltohon sysäsi,
Ite käntyvi käessä
Niin kuin kuiva haavan lehti
Elikkä kesi oravan.
"Ei ole siinä miehen surma
Eikä kuolema urohon;
Oi Emoni, vaimo vanha!
Tuo minulle soti-sopani,
Varsin vaino-vaatteheni,
Menen Päivilän pitoihin
Hyvän joukon juominkihin".
Emo kielti, vaimo käski,
Epäsi kavehta kaksi,
Kielti kolme Luonnotarta.
"Mikä on kumma, toinen kumma?"
"Suur on kääry käärmehiä,
Ylös kielin kietsahuvat,
Pään varalla Kauko-mielen".
"Vasta kynnin kyisen pellon,
Vakuolin maan matoset,
Käärmehiä käännyttelin,
Kyyn syötin, maon valjastin,
Karhun rautoihin rakensin,
Satuloihin saan matoa,
Kytkin kyytä kymmen kunnan;
Ei ole siinä miehen surma,
Eikä kuolema urohon.
Tuo minulle soti-sopani,
Kanna vaino-vaatteheni!"
Emo kielti, vaimo käski,
Epäsi kavehta kaksi,
Kielti kolme Luonnotarta:
"Monet on kummat matkoillasi,
Monet tielläsi imehet".
"Mikä on kumma kolmas kumma?"
"Se on kumma kolmas kumma:
Tuloo joki tulinen,
Joessa tulinen koski,
Koskessa on tulinen luoto,
Luoossa tulinen koivu,
Koivussa tulinen kokko,
Yöt se hammasta hivoovi
Kynsiänsä kitkuttavi
Pään varalla Kauko-mielen".
Siitä kaunis Kauko-mieli
Sanan virkko, noin vakasi:
"Kyllä mä siihen keinon keksin,
Keinon keksin, mutkan muistan;
Laulan leppäsen venehen,
Laulan leppäsen urohon
Veneheseen leppäsehen
Sivutseni kulkemahan,
Roitsi vaeltamahan,
Sillä sen rovin vaellan;
Oi Emoni, vaimo vanha,
Tuo minulle soti-sopani,
Varsin vaino-vaatteheni!
Lähen Päivilän pitohin
Hyvän joukon juominkihin".
"Ellös lähkö poikuoni
Viell' on kumma, neljäs kumma,
Sat' on seivästä mäellä,
Joka seiväs päätä täynnä,
Yksi seiväs päättä jääny,
Pään varalla Kauko-mielen".
Sano kaunis Kauko-mieli:
"Kyllä mä siihen mutkan muistan,
Mutkan muistan, keinon keksin;
Otan kourat kuollehelta
Pään mäkäsen määnneheltä
Senki seipähän varalle;
Oi Emoni, vaimo vanha,
Tuo minulle soti-sopani,
Varsin vaino-vaatteheni!
Lähen Päivilän pitohin
Hyvän joukon juominkihin".
Emo kielti, vaimo käski,
Epäsi kavehta kaksi,
Kielti kolme Luonnotarta:
"Poikuoni nuorempani!
Jos sä jouut juominkihin,
Risti rahvaan remuhun,
Juo puoli pikaria,
Anna toisen toinen puoli,
Pahemman parempi puoli,
Niin sinusta mies tuloo,
Miesten seuroin sekoon,
Miehisehen joukkiohon,
Urohoisehen väkehen".
Niin he varsin varottelit
Oven suussa, alla orren,
Kintaan kirvottimilla,
Hatun harvon heikkimillä;
Toki läksi, ei totellu,
Nousi maasta ratsahille,
Meni Päivilän pitohin
Hyvän joukon juominkihin.
Sano siellä saatuonsa:
"Jok' on täällä syömät syöty?"
"Syöty syömät, juotu juomat,
Pikarit pinohin pantu,
Tuopit roukkohon rovittu".
"Mintäpä tämä minulle
Omistani ohristani,
Kylvämistäni jyvistä?
Muut ne kanto kauhasilla
Muut ne tiiskinä tiputti,
Minä määrillä mäkäsin,
Minä kannon kaksin määrin
Omiani Ohriani
Kylvämöitäni jyviä.
Tuoppa tuopilla olutta
Kanna kaksi-korvasella!"
Siitä päälle Päivän poika
Tuopi tuopilla olutta,
Hiiva on alla, vaahti päällä,
Keskellä olut punanen,
Maot reunalla mateloo,
Käärmehet kähäjelöö.
Siitä kaunis Kauko-mieli
Otti ongen huotrastansa
Väkä-rauvan väskystänsä.
"Rikka maahan, ruoka suuhun!"
Joi olosen onneksehen,
Me'en mustan mieleksehen.
Sano siitä juotuansa:
"Tuopin tuoja Tuonelalle,
Kannun kantaja Manallen!
Katselkaamme kalpojamme,
Mitelkäämme miekkojamme!
Kumman kalpo kaunihimpi,
Kumman miekka miehusampi,
Sepä eellä iskemähän".
Sano päältä Päivän poika:
"Minun miekkani parempi,
minun kalpo kaunihimpi".
Sano kaunis Kauko-mieli:
"Läkkäämme ulos pihallen!
Pessyt penkit hierelemme,
Laattiat verin pesemme;
Pihall' on veri parempi,
Kakaroill' on kaunihimpi;
Mitellähän miekkojamme,
Katellahan kalpojamme,
Kui' on sull' parempi miekka
Sinä eellä iskemähän".
Iski päältä Päivän poika,
Ei lipannut lihoakaan,
Ottanut Orvas-kettäkään.
[Kesi taikka iho. Tämä paikka veisattiin näin:
ottanut Oravas Kettuakaan --
Iski kaunis Kauko-mieli,
Vei kuin naatin naurihista,
Evän kaikesta kalasta.
-- Nousi maasta ratsahalle,
Kohta lähtöö kotihin
Luokse entisen Emonsa.
Sano sinne saatuonsa
Emollensa ensimmäksi:
"Säästä säkkihin evästä,
Pane jauhot palttinahan,
Vuole voita vakkasehen,
lähen töitäni pakohon,
Pillojani piilomahan;
Tapon miehen kuin urohon,
Omani setäni pojan,
Paremmaisen ihteäni".
Emo neuvo poikuonsa,
Varsin lastansa varotti:
"Mene tuonne piilomahan,
nouse koivusen orollen
Petäjäksi kankahalle".
"Tuho sielläkin tuloovi,
Pappilan pahat kasakat
Usein oronen koivu
Pino-puiksi pilkutahan,
Usein kataja-kangas
Hakatahan halme-maaksi.
Tuho sielläin tuloovi".
Emo neuvo poikuonsa,
Varsin lastansa varotti:
"Mene tuonne piilomahan
Maksahan meri-matehen,
Pyrstöhön lohi punasen".
"Tuho sielläin tuloovi.
Siell' on lieto Lemmingäinen,
se on ongella olia,
Käväksellä aina käviä,
Nenässä utusen niemen,
Päässä saaren terhellisen".
"Mene tuonne piilomahan
Kontion kivi-kololle,
Metsän karhun kartanolle".
"Tuho sielläin tuloovi,
Mies nuori Noventolainen
Kirvestänsä kitkuttaapi
Pään varalla Kauko-mielen".
Siitä kaunis Kauno-mieli
Läksi töitänsä pakohon,
Pillojansa piilomahan;
Vesti vuorella venettä,
Kalliolla kalkutteli,
Viien värkkinän muruista
Kuuen tainan taittumista.
Sa'an makasi neitosia
Yhtenä kesässä yönä,
Syky syyssä valkiana.
Läksi töitänsä pakohon,
Pillojansa piilomahan,
Pani purjeen puun nenähän.
Siinä itkit saaren neiot
Kuin ei purje-puut näkynyt,
Ei he itkit purje-puuta,
Itkit purje-puun alaista
Rauta-hangon haltiata.
Väinämöisen kosiominen.
Tuulikki Tapion neiti,
Hoikka Honkelan miniä,
Sala-kaarron kaunis Vaimo
Istu ilman vempeleellä,
Taivon kaarella kajotti.
Sano vanha Väinämöinen:
"Tuletkos minulle Neiti!"
Neiti taiten vastajaapi:
"Sitte sun mieheksi sanosin,
Urohoksi arvelisin,
Jossas jouhen halkaseisit,
Veittellä kärettömällä,
Ilman tutkamettomalla,
Munan solmuhun vetäsit
Solmun tuntumattomaksi".
Vaka vanha Väinämöinen
Halki jouhen halkaseepi
Veittellä kärettömällä
Ilman tutkamettomalla,
Munan solmuhun vetäävi,
Solmun tuntumattomaksi.
Sano vanha Väinämöinen:
"Tuletkos minullen Neiti!"
Neiti taiten vastojaapi:
"Emmon sulle ennen tullo,
Ennen kuin venosen veistät
Kehrä-varteni muruista,
Kalpimeni kappaleista,
Kirvon käymätä kivehen
Kasan kalkahuttamata".
Vaka vanha Väinämöinen
Veitsi vuorella venettä,
Kalkutteli kalliolla:
Ei kirves kivehen koske,
Eikä kalka kalliohon.
Viimen liuskahti lihaan,
Varpahaseen Väinämöisen,
Polvehen pyhän Urohon.
Veri tulvana tuleepi,
Hurme juokseepi jokena.
Ei ollu sitä mätästä,
Eikä vuorta korkiata,
Jok' ei tullu tulvillehen
Varpahasta Väinämöisen,
Polvesta pyhän Urohon.
Vaka vanha Väinämöinen
Rekehensä reutoaksen,
Vierretäksen korjahansa,
Ajo tuonne toitualle,
Tuonne kylmähän kylähän,
Yli kynnyksen kysyyvi:
"Lieneekö talossa taassa,
Tämän tulvan tukkiata,
Salpoa tämän satehen?"
Lausu lapsi laattialta,
Paarna pieni pankon päästä:
"Ei ole talossa taassa,
Tämän tulvan tukkiata,
Sortajata suoni-kosken;
Mene toisehen talohon!"
Vaka vanha Väinämöinen
Ajo toisehen talohon,
Yli kynnyksen kysyyvi:
"Lieneekö talossa taassa,
Tämän tulvan tukkiata,
Salpoa tämän satehen?"
Lausu Äiä pöyän päästä
Paarta laulo, pää jätisi:
"Sulettun' on suuremmatkin,
Jalommatkin jaksettunna,
Joet suista, salmet päistä,
Selät niemien nenistä,
Kannakset kapeimmista".
Väinämöinen ja Joukamoinen.
Tuo oli vanha Väinämöinen,
Tuo oli nuori Joukamoinen,
Ajoit tiellä vastatuksen,
Rahis rahkeeseen takeltu,
Vemmel puuttu vempeleeseen;
Vesi tippu vempeleestä,
Rasva rahkehen nenästä.
Tuo oli vanha Väinämöinen
Hän tuo sanoiksi virtti:
"Kump' ollon tiiolta enämpi,
Sepä tiellä seisuohon,
Kump' ollon tiiolta vähempi,
Se tieltä pois poiketkohon".
Tuo oli nuori Joukamoinen,
Hän tuon sanoiksi virtti:
"Tiiän minä'in vähäsen,
Muistan muukaman ajankin,
Puut pitkät Pisan mäellä,
Hongat Hornan kalliolla".
Väinämöinen:
"Ei ole siinä miehen muisto,
Eikä partasuun urohon".
Joukamoinen:
"Muistan muukaman ajan,
Kuin maita säettihin,
Muistan kolkot kuokittuna
Kala hauat kaivettuna
Ilman pielet pistettynä
Taivoset tähytettynä".
Väinämöinen:
"Kumpanen tiiolta enämpi,
Se tiellä seisuohon
Kumpanen tiiolta vähempi,
Sepä tieltä välttyöhön.
Tiiän minäkin vähäsen,
Omat on kolkot kuokkimani,
Kala-hauvat kaivamani,
Ilman pielet pistämäni,
Taivoni tähyttämäni.
Oi sie nuori Joukamoinen
Mitäs annat lunnahiksi?"
Joukamoinen:
"Annan ainoan orihin,
Juosten juomahan menöövi,
Juosten juomasta tuloovi,
Lampi sill' on lautasilla,
Vesi selvä selkä-luolla,
Vesi pilviä vetää,
Syö se heinät hetteistä".
Väinämöinen:
"Kusen koira! Oriiseesi,
Ompa kahta kaunihimpi,
Kolmea koreampikin.
Mitä annat lunnahiksi?"
Joukamoinen:
"Annan kultia kypärän
Hopeita huovan täyven".
Väinämöinen:
"Kusen koira! Kultiisi.
Mitäs annat lunnahiksi?
Laulan suohon suoni-vöistä,
Niittyhyn nisän lihoista,
Kainalosta kankahaseen.
Jopa tuskiksi tuloovi,
Läylemmäksi lankioovi".
Joukamoinen:
"Oi sinä vanha Väinämöinen
Pyörrätäs pyhät sanasi!
Annan ainoan sisaren,
Lainaan emosen lapsen,
Hiki puolen istujalle,
Suojaksi sopeen kululle".
Tuo oli vanha Väinämöinen
Pyörtipä pyhät sanansa.
Antopa ainoan sisaren,
Lainasi emosen lapsen,
Hiki puolen istujalla,
Suojaksi sopeen kululla.
Läksi itkein kotihin,
Emo pääty, on pihalla.
Hän tuon sanoiksi virtti:
"Mitä itket poikuoni?"
"Oi emoni kantajani
Ompa syitä itkiäkkin:
Annon ainoan sisaren,
Lainasin emosen lapsen".
Emo kahta kämmentähän,
Hyrehtivi molempia,
"Tuota ootin tuon ikäni,
Puhki polveni halasi,
Vävykseni Väinämöistä,
Su'ukseni suurta miestä,
Laulajata langokseni".
Mailman alku Munasta.
Lappalainen kyyttö-silmä
Piti viikkosta vihoa
Päälle vanhan Väinämöisen,
Katso illan, katso aamun
Tulovaksi Väinämöistä,
Saahaksi Uventolaista;
Otti nuolen oikeimman,
Valihti parahan varren,
Jännitti tulisen jousen
Hiuksilla Hiien immin,
Pääskyn pienillä sulilla,
Varvusten vivustimilla;
Ampu alta sinisen hirven,
Alta vanhan Väinämöisen.
Siitä vanha Väinämöinen
Käänti kämmenen merehen,
Sortu sormin laineheseen,
Siitä kulki kuusi vuotta,
Seiso seittemän keseä
Selvällä meren selällä,
Ullapalla aukiolla,
Kulki kuusissa hakona,
Petäjäissä pölkyn päänä;
Seisotti meren selällä.
Sotkonen ilman lintu
Etti pesänsä sioa,
Hiero heinästä peseä,
Kulon päästä kutkutteli,
Niin muni munia kolme,
Hierelöövi, hauteloovi;
Siitä vanha Väinämöinen
Luuli polvensa palavan,
Jäsenensä lämpiävän:
Liikautti polviansa,
Munat vierey vetehen,
Munat vierey muruksi,
Munan alanen puoli
Yliseksi taivoseksi,
Niin muita munan muruja
Tähiksi taivahalle,
Mie on munassa valkiata,
Se päiväksi paistamahan,
Mie on munasen ruskiata,
Se kuuksi kuumottamaan.
Väinämöinen tekee venettä.
Se on vanha Väinämöinen,
Teki tiiolla venettä,
Laati purtta laulamalla.
Uupu kolmea sanoa
Päähän laian päästessänsä,
Peri-laijan liitoksessa,
Kokkien kohentimilla,
Panemilla parras-puien.
Läksi saamaan sanoja
Otetuit' on ongermoita.
"Tuoll' olis sata sanoa
Tuhat virren tutkelmusta
Kesä-petran kielen alla,
Suussa valkian oravan;
Tapan juonen jouhtenia,
Pellon peuroja levitän,
Oravia suuren orren".
Ei saanut sanoakaan,
Eipä puoltakaan sanoa.
"Tuoll' olis sata sanoa,
Tuhat virren tutkelmusta,
Suussa Antero Vipuisen,
Jok' on viikon maassa maannut
Kauvon lehossa levännyt;
Paju-pehku parran päällä,
Haapa suuri hartioilla
Kulmilla oravi-kuusi;
Sinn' on paljon mentävätä,
Hempi heiluteltavata,
Neki on matkoja pahoja.
Yks on juoni juostakseni
Naisten neulojen neniä,
Toinen juoni juostakseni
Miesten miekkojen teriä".
Siitä vanha Väinämöinen
Pani paitansa pajaksi,
Pikku sormensa piheksi
Vasaraksi kyynärpäänsä,
Tako miesten tarpehia
Vyölis koukkuja kohenti,
Tako rautaset talukset,
Laitto rautasen korennon,
Pani päälle mellon rauvan,
Teki sämehen teräkset.
Siitä vanha Väinämöinen
Juoksi juonen ensimmäisen
Naisten neulojen neniä,
Juoksi toisen'in juonen
Miesten miekkojen teriä.
Torkahti toisen jalansa,
Vaapahti vasemmoisensa,
Suuhun Antero Vipuisen.
Siitä vanha Väinämöinen
Syöksi rautasen korennon
Suuhun Antero Vipuisen.
Siitä Antero Vipuinen
Puri päältä mellon rauvan,
Ei tiennyt terästä purra
Eikä syyä rauan syäntä.
Sano Antero Vipuinen:
"Mikä lienet miehiänsä,
Ja kuka urohiansa?
Jo oon syönyt sa'an miestä,
Tuhonnut tuhan urosta,
En ole syönyt taan näöstä,
Syet suuhuni tuloovi,
Kekälehet kielelleni.
Lähe konna koukuistani,
Maan käviä matkastani!"
Sano vanha Väinämöinen:
"Hyvä tääll' on ollakseni,
Maksat ruuaksi pätöö,
Rasvat käypi särpimeksi,
Saan siitä sata sanoa,
Tuhat virren tutkelmusta,
Suusta Antero Vipuisen".
Laulo unervon vesille,
Umpi-putken lainehillen;
Laulo toisen laita-puolen
Suka-kättä sulhasia,
Suka-kättä pii-pivoo;
Laulo toisen laita-puolen
Tina-päitä neitosia,
Tina-päitä vaski-vöitä.
Laski päivän suo-vesiä,
Toisen päivän maa-vesiä,
Kolmannen meri-vesiä,
Puuttu pursi laulajalta
Takahtu venet runolta.
Sano vanha Väinämöinen:
"Kivelläkö vaan havolla,
Vaiko hauin hartioilla,
Veen koiran koukku-luilla?"
Siitä vanha Väinämöinen
Nosti miekkansa veneestä
Pisti hauin hartiohon
Veen koiran koukku-luihin,
Vetipä venosehensa,
Tallu, tallu pohjaansa.
Kanteleen Synty.
Itki ennen puinen pursi
Venet vaivanen valitti.
Kysy vanha Väinämöinen:
"Mitäs itket puinen pursi
Venet vaivanen valitat?
Itkekkös sä puisuuttasi
Hankavuuttasi haluat?"
"Sitä itken puinen pursi,
Venet vaivanen valitan:
Muut purret sotia käyvät
Tappeluita tallustavat,
Saavat täytensä rahoja
Perä-puunsa penninkiä;
Minä lahon lastullani
Venyn veistämäisilläni,
Pahimmatkin maan matoset
Alla kaarteni asuvat,
Ilkeimmät ilman linnut
Pesän pielessä pitävät,
Parras puuhun paskantavat".
Vaka vanha Väinämöinen
Lykkäsi venon vesille,
Satalaian lainehille,
Lato toisen laita-puolen
Suka-päitä sulhasia,
Kannus-jalkoja jaloja,
Lato toisen laita-puolen
Vaski-vöitä neitosia.
Itek' istuuvi perähän,
Pani vanhat soutamahan,
Vanhat sousit, päät vapisit,
Ei ilo ilolle tullu,
Soutu sou'ullen tajunnu.
Pani nuoret soutamahan,
Nuoret sousit, sormet notkut,
Airon pyyryt pyynnä vingut,
Terät teirinä kukersit,
Hangat hanhina pajahit,
Nokka jouhtena jolusi,
Perä kraakku kaarnehina.
Nyt ilo ilolle kävi,
Soutu sou'ullen tajusi.
Laski päivän maa-vesiä,
Toisen päivän suo-vesiä,
Kolmannen koti-vesiä.
Jo päivänä kolmantena
Laski hauvin hartioille
Veen koiran koukku-luille;
Pursi puuttuvi lujahan.
Vaka vanha Väinämöinen
Arveleevi aivossahan:
"Kivelläkö vain havolla,
Vaiko hauin hartioilla,
Veen koiran koukku-luilla?"
Vetäävi veneheensä,
Purston pohjahan puotti.
Katseleevi, käänteleevi,
Minkäs tuosta seppä saisi,
Minkäs taitava takosi,
Mies naatti naputtelisi?
Teki harpun hauin luista,
Kantelon kalan evästä,
Veen koiran koukku-luista.
Pani kielet kanteleeseen
Hiuksista Hiien immin,
Jouhista uvet orihin;
Pani naulat kanteleeseen
Orahasta Tuonen otran,
Tuonen hauvin hampahista.
Soitit nuoret, soitit vanhat,
Soitit nainehet urohot,
Soitit miehet naimattomat,
Ei ilo ilolle tullu,
Soitto soitolle tajunnu:
Sano vanha Väinämöinen:
"Ilo tänne tuotakohon,
Kantelo kannettakohon
Miehen tehnehen käsille,
Sormille sovittelian".
Ite istui soittamahan,
Soiti ruotosta rojua,
Kalan luista kanteletta
Käsin pienin, hoikin sormin,
Peukalo ylös keveni.
Itkit nuoret, itkit vanhat,
Itkit nainehet urohot,
Itkit miehet naimattomat.
Itensäki Väinämöisen
Veet vyöryit silmistähän
Reheillen rinnoillehen,
Rinnoiltahan polvillehen,
Kaseammat karpaloita
Pyyliämmät pyyn munia,
Läpi viien villa-vaipan,
Sarka-kauhtanan kaheksan.
Ei ollut sitä metässä
Jalan neljän juoksevata,
Kahen siiven suihkavata,
Jok' ei tullut kuulemahan,
Väinämöisen soitellessa,
Tehessä Isän iloa;
Karhukin aialle kavahti,
Itekkin Metsän Emäntä
Rinnoin aialle ajaksin,
Veräjällen vieretäksen.
Ei sitä meressä ollut
Evän kuuen kulkevata,
Jok' ei tullut kuulemahan;
Itekin veen Emäntä
Rinnoin aallollen ajaksin,
Veäksen vesi-kivelle,
Vaivoaksen vahtallehen.
Toinen runo samasta asiasta alkaa tällä tavalla:
Ite vanha Väinämöinen
Oli ettivä hevosta,
Päätä puitti katselova
Suvikunnan suittet vyöllä
Varsan valjahat olalla.
Laski maahan marhaminnan,
Hietahan helut hevoisen;
Löysi purren itkemästä
Venehen valittamasta
Mitäs itket puinen pursi,
Venet hankava halajat? ja niin eespäin.
Kärmehen Synty.
Maa isäsi, maa emosi,
Maa on valta vanhempasi,
Multa sinä, multa minä,
Maata yhteistä elämme.
Mato musta maan alainen,
Toukka Tuonen karvallinen!
Tiiämpä sinun sukusi,
Vaan en konna karvojasi;
Lehen on karva, lemmen karva,
Taivaan sinervä karva,
Karva on kaikkein kavetten.
Mato musta maan alainen,
Toukka Tuonen karvallinen,
Raippa raunion alainen,
Pinon pitkän vierehinen
Aarret aitain alainen!
Läpi olet mätästen meniä,
Puun juurten pujottelia,
Läpi lukkuin meniä,
Läpi loiran longattaja,
Laho kannon kaivelia.
Kuka sun kulosta nosti,
Herätteli heinikosta?
Isäsikö vain emäsi,
Vaiko vanhin veikkojasi,
Vai nuorin sisariasi?
Kuinsä lienet purstoin purrut
Tahi hampain hakannut,
Sima suustasi suloa,
Mesi heitä kielestäsi,
Juo viinana vihasi,
Olunna omat pahansi,
Mennä mieli karvahaksi,
Turvu tuivu tuskihisi,
Paisu pakko päivihisi,
Ennen kuin emollen sanon,
Virkon valta-vanhemmalle;
Enempi emolla työtä,
Vaiva suuri vanhemmalla,
Kuin poika pahon teköövi
Lapsi ankarin asuuvi.
Mist' on pää pahalle pantu?
Pahan hengen paulan päästä.
Mist' on silmät siunailtu?
Silmä on simpukan kivestä.
Mistä hampaat haettu?
Orahasta Tuonen otran,
Kieli Lemmon keihäästä. --
Jauho-Runo.
Jos olla joet olunna,
Joki-vieret vehna-maina!
Saisit orjatkin olutta,
palkollisetkin panosta,
Vierettä kiven vetäjät.
Niin mä laulan liitettelen,
Kuin veitonen vierettelen,
Suusta kuin sulan kynästä,
Päästä päivän kakkarasta;
Laulan pielekset pihoille,
Tammet keski tantereille,
Tammellen tasaset oksat,
Joka oksallen omenan
Omenalle kulta-pyörän,
Kulta-pyörälle käköisen,
Kuin käki kukahteloopi,
Kulta suusta kumpuaapi,
Vaski parralle valuupi,
Kultaisehen kuppisehen,
Vaskisehen vakkaisehen...
Kivi suuri, orja pieni,
Jauhaja vähä väkinen.
Kalevan Poika.
Se kalkki Kalevan poika,
Kuin ensin emästä synty,
Viiellä vesi kivellä,
Heti kohta kolmi-öissä,
Katkasi kapalo-vyönsä.
Nähtiin hyvä tulevan,
Keksittihin kelpoavan,
Myytihinpä vierahalle,
Karjalahan kaupittihin,
Sepolle Köyrötyiselle.
Pantihin lasta katsomahan,
Katsoi lasta, kaivoi silmät,
Syötti lasta, söi itekki,
Lapsen tauilla tapatti,
Kätkyen tulella poltti.
Kysyi työtä iltaisella
Isännältä iltaiseksi,
Emännältä aamuiseksi.
Työn orjan nimittäköhön,
Nimi työlle pantakohon.
Pantiin aian panentohon.
Jopa aitoa paneepi,
Kohastahan kokka-hongat
Aiaksi asetteloovi,
Kokonansa korpi-kuuset
Seipähiksi pistelöövi.
Sitten vyötti maan maoilla
Sikaliskoilla siteli.
Sitte seppo Köyrötyinen
Käypi itse katsomassa,
Aitoa Kalevan pojan,
Sollu-kullan sortamata;
Näkipä päitä liikkuvia,
Raivoja ratisevia,
Aiassa Kalevan pojan,
Sollu-kullan sortamassa.
Työtä illalla kysyyvi,
Isännältä iltaiseksi,
Emänneltä aamuiseksi.
Pantiin karjan paimeneksi.
Seppo Köyrötyn emäntä
Kiven leipoi leipähäänsä,
Paaen painoi kakkuhunsa,
Alle kaurasen asetti,
Päälle vehnaisen venytti;
Pani paimenen povehen;
"Ällös tätä ennen syökö,
Karjan tullessa kotihin".
Veti veitsensä kivehen,
Karahutti kalliohon.
"Millä maksan piian pilkan,
Piian pilkan, naisen naurun,
Pahan vaimon palkan maksan?
Kule päivä kuusikolle,
Viere vehna-viivikölle
Katkia kataikolle".
Syötti karjan kontioille,
Ajoi kontiot kotia,
Karjan kirjoi kartanolle,
Teki luikun lehmän luista,
Härän sarvista helinän;
Tuolla soittain tuleevi
Kulleroiten kankahilla.
Sano Köyrötyn emäntä:
"Ole kiitetty Jumala!
Torvi soipi, karja saapi;
Mistä orja torven saanut,
Rautio tasaisen pillin?
Puhki korvani puhuuvi,
Läpi pääni läylentäävi".
Ajoi kontiot kotihin,
Karhut kirjoi kartanolle,
Käski muorin kytkemähän:
"Mene lehmät kytkemähän,
Raavahat rakentamahan".
"Paimen ennen lehmät kytki,
Paimen raavahat rakensi".
Pani karhut kahlehisin,
Suet rautoihin rakensi;
Neuvoleevi karhujahan,
Susillehen suin puheli:
"Repäse emännän reisi".
Tarttui karhu kantapäähän,
Repäisi emännän reien.
Sillä kosti piian pilkan,
Naisen naurun paransi,
Pahan vaimon palkan makso.
Source Colophon
Finnish. From Zacharias Topelius (the Elder), Suomen Kansan Vanhoja Runoja ynnä myös Nykyisempiä Lauluja ("Old Songs of the Finnish People, together with Newer Songs and Lays"), Volume I, Turku: J. C. Frenckell & Son, 1822. Text prepared by Jari Koivisto for Project Gutenberg (EBook #54449). The 1822 Finnish original is in the public domain.
Only the eleven Old Songs (Vanhoja Runoja) and the Preface (Esipuhe) are reproduced here. The six "Newer Songs" (Nykyisempiä Lauluja) — patriotic odes, verse fables, and occasional poetry from the same volume — fall outside the folk tradition and are not included.
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