Selected songs from Elias Lönnrot's Kanteletar (1840), translated from the Finnish

These four songs from Book I of the Kanteletar represent the mythological heart of Finnish lyric folk poetry. Song 90 gathers Väinämöinen's wisdom — a catalogue of prohibitions and proverbs addressed to his younger brother, structurally parallel to the Norse Hávamál (Words of the High One). Song 94 tells how Ilmarinen, the divine smith, could not smelt iron until the Evil One visited his forge and accidentally revealed the secret of adding sand as flux. Songs 110 and 188 are synty-songs — origin charms that trace the birth of beer and the boat to their mythological sources.

The synty-song (syntyruno) is one of the most distinctive genres of Finnish folk poetry. Each synty-song names the origin of a thing — beer, iron, fire, frost, disease, the serpent — as a way of claiming power over it. To know the origin is to control the thing. The brewer who knows beer's origin brews better; the boatwright who knows the boat's origin builds stronger. These are functional magical poems, part of the tietäjä (knower-seer) tradition.

No complete English translation of the Kanteletar exists in the public domain. Keith Bosley's 1992 Oxford World's Classics selection is in copyright. These translations are independently derived from the 1840 Finnish text (Project Gutenberg #7078).

Song 90 — Väinämöinen's Words (Wäinämöisen sanoja)

Book I, Section I: Common to All — a wisdom catalogue in which old Väinämöinen, the eternal sage of the Kalevala cycle, teaches his younger brother through prohibitions and proverbs. Structurally parallel to the Norse Hávamál, with each stanza introduced by a formulaic refrain.

The brothers went out on the waters,
the mother's children to the waves;
old Väinämöinen forbade them,
the bridegroom of the still waters warned them,
forbade three evils:
whistling on the waters,
singing on the waves,
rolling about in the boat,
crying out in the vessel.

The brothers were on the waters,
the mother's children on the waves;
old Väinämöinen forbade them,
the bridegroom of the still waters warned them,
forbade three evils:
gutting the innards of the whitefish,
carving the shavings of the pike,
eating the spawn of fish.
So spoke Väinämöinen,
the first-born uttered
to his younger brother:
"You should not eat,
neither you, nor anyone,
the innards of the whitefish, the shavings of the pike,
the belly of the perch,
the roe of the moonfish."

The brothers came from the waters,
the mother's children from the waves;
old Väinämöinen forbade them,
the bridegroom of the still waters warned them,
forbade three evils:
walking alone at night,
shouting while drunk,
lying on the highway,
rowing in the dead of night.
But Väinämöinen did not forbid,
the bridegroom of the still waters did not prevent
the drowning man from crying out,
the dead man from lying down.

Old Väinämöinen forbade,
the bridegroom of the still waters warned against
a plough behind a reindeer,
dough from the land of Lapland;
he forbade swimming on a dare,
rowing a brother's waters.

Old Väinämöinen forbade,
the bridegroom of the still waters warned against
a patched purse
at the belt of an unmarried man;
he forbade a house without work,
a field left unsown.

Old Väinämöinen forbade,
the bridegroom of the still waters forbade
a land without men,
a village without an axe,
a household without a mistress,
a farmyard without a dog.

Still Väinämöinen forbade,
the bridegroom of the still waters warned against
bowing down to gold,
swaying before silver,
the old wanting the young,
scorning the beautiful.

Old Väinämöinen said
to his younger brother:
A kettle is handsome on the fire,
even if it only boils water;
a good mind in a man's head,
even if he sits with nothing —
strength does not wrench the shoulders,
nor a sound mind crack the head.

Old Väinämöinen said
to his younger brother:
Guard the boat of pine,
guard the one who carved the pine;
bad is a servant without wages,
bad with too many wages —
a man lives by his own portion,
a dog by another's fate.

Old Väinämöinen said
to his younger brother:
Grant abundance to the one you hate,
give wealth to the wretched! —
A fool despises his own catch,
so even the empty-handed gain from it;
hatred drives the grain from the land,
envy the fish from the water.

Old Väinämöinen said
to his younger brother:
God always helps,
cuts through every season;
by waiting, the shares grow better,
by patience, the finest come —
seldom does the wide-mesh net feed,
but when it does, with great fish.

Old Väinämöinen said
to his younger brother:
In God is the measure of the race,
not in a man's swiftness;
the runner reaches somewhere,
the walker arrives far —
often the steady ox walks on
when the horse has already lost its breath.

Old Väinämöinen said
to his younger brother:
Listen to the spruce
at whose root you dwell;
praise other lands to others,
your own lands to yourself —
one's own lands are sweetest,
one's own forests most beloved.

Old Väinämöinen said
to his younger brother:
There is a difference between a bent switch
and an unbent one;
a man comes from counsel,
a dog from lack of it —
knowledge does not push a man from the road,
nor shove advice aside.

Old Väinämöinen said
to his younger brother:
I would wish my Finland well,
my Karelia beautiful;
always to live well,
to die with honour —
let the lazy go to Lapland,
the other sluggards to Estonia's waters.

Song 94 — The First Ironsmith (Ensimmäinen rautio)

Book I, Section I: Common to All — an origin myth for the art of ironworking. Ilmarinen, the eternal smith of the Kalevala cycle, cannot smelt his iron until the Evil One (paha) visits the forge and inadvertently reveals the secret: adding sand as flux. The closing proverb — "knowledge does not topple into a ditch" — links this song to Väinämöinen's Words above.

Ilmarinen the smith himself
long hammered in the forge,
could not bring a hoe together,
nor get his axe to smelt;
calluses grew on his heels,
a fathom of soot on his shoulders.

He pondered in the mornings,
turned it over through the days:
"Why does my iron not smelt,
not flow beneath my bellows?
I forge my iron all winter,
I cook the axe all summer."

The Evil One arrived at the forge,
the wretch asked from the threshold:
"How many, you wretched smith,
axes have you smelting?"

"Five are already finished,
six at most,
in the span of one morning,
in a single sitting."

The Evil One spoke these words:
"Not even that smith
could get five finished
in a single sitting,
who smelts only iron,
who throws in handfuls of sand."

Then Ilmarinen the smith
took the lesson for himself —
threw sand into the fire,
his axes into the smelt;
at once the axe smelted,
the iron took form in the forge.
That is what made him a smith,
what gave him the power to forge;
knowledge does not topple into a ditch,
nor shove advice aside.

Song 110 — Origin of Beer (Oluen synty)

Book I, Section I: Common to All — a synty-song for the brewing of beer. Hops, barley, and water call to each other across field and well, united by the labour of birds. The cat names the drink. The brewer, overwhelmed by the consequences of his hospitality, flees into the forest. Beer also appears in the Kalevala (Canto XX) in expanded form; the Kanteletar version is the concentrated lyric core.

I know the birth of beer,
from hops is beer's origin.
Hops, the son of Remunen,
was planted small in the ground,
plowed in like a serpent,
flung away like a weed,
on the embankment of Osmo's field,
beside Kaleva's well.
From there a shoot could rise,
a green branch could stretch,
on the embankment of Osmo's field,
beside Kaleva's well;
it climbed into a slender tree,
rose toward the crown.

Then hops called from the tree,
barley from the field's edge,
water from Kaleva's well:
"When shall we come together,
when meet one another:
at Christmas, or at Kekri,
or not until Easter,
or perhaps this very day? —
Let it be this very day."

So they came together at once,
and found each other;
the wagtail carried water
through the swift summer's day,
the robin chopped the firewood,
the titmouse brewed the beer.
Well did the titmouse know,
she knew how to brew the beer,
but could not give it a name.

The cat spoke from the stove-top,
the cat pronounced from the bench-end:
"Beer is its proper name,
a good drink for the righteous,
a bad one for the heavy drinker;
the righteous make merry,
fools start fighting."

The titmouse, that small bird,
the sparrow of small means,
invited many guests
to the beer that was ready;
good it was for the righteous,
bad for the heavy drinker:
it set the fools to raving,
the madmen to carousing.

The titmouse, that small bird,
the sparrow of small means,
could not stay at home —
had to flee to the forest.

Song 188 — Origin of the Boat (Venehen synty)

Book I, Section I: Common to All — a synty-song for boatbuilding. The speaker walks a magical road paved in bark and coloured stone, addresses a pine tree, and asks whether a boat can be born from it. The pine answers with memories of the cuckoo in spring. The brother carves; the vessel is born; the young and old each row according to their nature.

I walked a road of oak bark,
over liver-coloured earth,
on a bridge of blue stones,
by a ditch-step of red;
a great pine came before me,
and I asked it:
"Can a boat be born from you?"

"A boat can be born from me;
all the beautiful spring long,
even this past week,
the cuckoo sang in my crown,
honey dripped from my leaves,
the sun circled my trunk."

I called my brother to carve —
"Come, carve the boat!"
My brother came to carve;
my brother carved the boat,
with a ringing axe,
on a resounding rock.
The boat was born from the carving,
the vessel from the taking of chips;

the young came to row,
the young rowed, the oars bent;
the old came to row,
the old rowed, their heads trembled.

Colophon

Translated from the Finnish of Elias Lönnrot, Kanteletar: Suomen kansan wanhoja lauluja ja wirsiä (Helsinki, 1840). Source text: Project Gutenberg EBook #7078, public domain.

Songs translated: Book I, Song 90 (Wäinämöisen sanoja); Song 94 (Ensimmäinen rautio); Song 110 (Oluen synty); Song 188 (Venehen synty).

These are the first known public-domain English translations of these songs. Song 90 is the most sustained wisdom catalogue in the Kanteletar — structurally parallel to the Norse Hávamál, with Väinämöinen's prohibitions and proverbs addressed to his younger brother forming a Finnish counterpart to Odin's counsel. Songs 94, 110, and 188 are synty-songs — origin charms from the oldest stratum of Finnish folk poetry, in which naming the origin of a thing confers magical authority over it.

No previous English translation was consulted. Keith Bosley's 1992 Oxford World's Classics selection is in copyright and was not used as a reference.

Good Works Translation by the New Tianmu Anglican Church. Lähde, Uralic Alpha Translator, March 2026.

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Source Text: Kanteletar — Wäinämöisen sanoja, Ensimmäinen rautio, Oluen synty, Venehen synty

Finnish source text from Elias Lönnrot, Kanteletar (Helsinki, 1840). Project Gutenberg eBook #7078. Spelling follows Lönnrot's 19th-century orthography. Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.

90. Wäinämöisen sanoja

Läksi veljekset vesille,
Emon lapset lainehille;
Kielti vanha Wäinämöinen,
Epäsi suvannon sulho,
Kielti kolmesta pahasta:
Vesillä viheltämästä,
Lainehilla laulamasta,
Venehessä vieremästä,
Purressa parahtamasta.

Oli veljekset vesillä,
Emon lapset lainehilla;
Kielti vanha Wäinämöinen,
Epäsi suvannon sulho,
Kielti kolmesta pahasta:
Suolimasta siian suolta,
Hauin vuolta vuolimasta,
Syömästä kalankutuja.
Noin se virkkoi Wäinämöinen,
Ennensyntynyt pakasi,
Nuoremmalle veiollensa:
"Ei sinun pitäisi syöä,
Ei sinun, ei muienkana,
Siian suolta, hauin vuolta,
Ahvenen alaista puolta,
Kuujasen kutumätiä."

Tuli veljekset vesiltä,
Emon lapset lainehilta;
Kielti vanha Wäinämöinen,
Epäsi suvannon sulho,
Kielti kolmesta pahasta:
Yksin öillä kulkemasta,
Humalassa huutamasta,
Maantiellä makoamasta,
Syänyöllä soutamasta.
Vaan ei kieltyt Wäinämöinen,
Evännyt suvannon sulho,
Hukkuvata huutamasta,
Kuollutta makoamasta.

Kielti vanha Wäinämöinen,
Epäsi suvannon sulho,
Atroa poron perästä,
Lapin maasta taikinoa;
Kielti uimasta uhalla,
Veikan vettä soutamasta.

Kielti vanha Wäinämöinen,
Epäsi suvannon sulho,
Kukkaroa paikattua
Vyöltä miehen naimattoman;
Kielti työtöntä taloa,
Toukoa tekemätöntä.

Kielti vanha Wäinämöinen,
Epäsi suvannon sulho,
Kielti maata miehetöntä,
Kirvehetöntä kyleä,
Eloa emännätöntä,
Koiratonta kartanoa.

Vielä kielti Wäinämöinen,
Epäsi suvannon sulho,
Kullalle kumartamasta,
Hopialle horjumasta,
Vanhan nuorta tahtomasta,
Kaunista käkeämästä.

Sanoi vanha Wainamöinen,
Nuoremmalle veiollensa:
Kaunis on kattila tulella,
Vaikka vettä kiehukohon;
Hyvä mieli miehen päässä,
Vaikka ilman istukohon—
Väki ei väännä hartioita,
Säre ei mieli miehen päätä.

Sanoi vanha Wäinämöinen,
Nuoremmalle veiollensa:
Hoia hongaista venettä,
Hoia hongan vestäjätä;
Pah' on orja palkatonna,
Paha paljon palkan kanssa—
Osallahan mies elävi,
Koira toisen kohtalolla.

Sanoi vanha Wäinämöinen,
Nuoremmalle veiollensa:
Suo vilja vihattavalle,
Rahat raukoteltavalle!—
Hullu saapoa vihaavi,
Siitä saapi saamatonki,
Viha viepi viljan maasta,
Kateus kalan veestä.

Sanoi vanha Wäinämöinen
Nuoremmalle veiollensa:
Aina auttavi Jumala,
Ajan kunki katkasevi;
Viipyen erät paremmat,
Kauan ollen kaunihimmat—
Harvoin syötti harva verkko,
Silloin suurilla kaloilla.

Sanoi vanha Wäinämöinen
Nuoremmalle veiollensa:
Jumalass' on juoksun määrä,
Ei miehen ripeyessä;
Juokseva johonki saapi,
Käypä kauas kerkiävi—
Usein käypi käypä härkä,
Kun jo hengästyi hevonen.

Sanoi vanha Wäinämöinen
Nuoremmalle veiollensa:
Sitä kuusta kuuleminen,
Jonka juuressa asunto;
Kiitä muille muita maita,
Itselle omia maita—
Omat maat makuisimmat,
Omat metsät mieluisimmat.

Sanoi vanha Wäinämöinen
Nuoremmalle veiollensa:
Väli on väätyllä vitsalla,
Väli vääntämättömällä;
Mies tulevi neuotusta,
Koira neuomattomasta—
Tieto ei miestä tieltä työnnä,
Neuo syrjähän syseä.

Sanoi vanha Wäinämöinen
Nuoremmalle veiollensa:
Soisin Suomeni hyväksi,
Karjalan kaunihiksi;
Hyvin aina elettäväksi,
Kunnialla kuoltavaksi—
Laiskat Lappihin menevän,
Muut veltot Wiron vesille.

94. Ensimmäinen rautio

Itse seppo Ilmarinen
Kauan kalkutti pajassa,
Saanut ei kuokkoa kokohon,
Kirvestänsä kiehumahan;
Paaet kasvoi kantapäihin,
Syli syttä hartioille.

Ajatteli aamusilla,
Päivät päässänsä piteli:
"Miks' ei minulla rauta kiehu,
Alla ahjoni valahu;
Taon talven rautoani,
Keitän kirvestä kesosen."

Päätyvi paha pajahan,
Kysyi kehno kynnykseltä:
"Monesko, mokoma seppä,
Kirves sulla kiehumassa?"—

"Vast' on viisi valmihina,
Kovin äiä, kun lie kuusi,
Yhen aamusen ajalla,
Yhellä rupeamalla."

Tuon paha sanoiksi virkki:
"Ei sepällä silläkänä
Saane viittä valmihiksi,
Yhellä rupeamalla,
Joka rauan keittelevi,
Hietakopran heittelevi."

Siitä seppo Ilmarinen
Itse ottavi opiksi—
Heitti hietoa tulehen,
Kirvehensä keittehille;
Jopa kohta kirves kiehui,
Rauta ahjossa rakentui.
Se hänen sepäksi saattoi,
Takojaksi tehä taisi;
Ei oppi ojahan kaaha,
Neuo syrjähän syseä.

110. Oluen synty

Tieän mä oluen synnyn,
Humalast' oluen synty.
Humala, Remusen poika,
Piennä maahan pistettihin,
Kyinä maahan kynnettihin,
Viholaisna viskottihin,
Osman pellon penkerehen,
Vierehen Kalevan kaivon.
Siitä taisi taimi nosta,
Yletä vihanta virpi,
Osman pellon penkerellä,
Vierillä Kalevan kaivon;
Nousi puuhun pienoisehen,
Kohti latvoa kohosi.

Niin huhui humala puusta,
Ohra pellon penkereltä,
Vesi kaivosta Kalevan:
"Milloin yhtehen yhymmä,
Konsa toinen toisihimme:
Joulunako, kekrinäkö,
Vaiko vasta pääsiäisnä,
Vaiko jo tänäki päänä?—
Jospa jo tänäki päänä."

Tuosta kohta koolle saivat,
Ja tulivat toisihinsa;
Västäräkki vettä kantoi
Kerkeän kesäisen päivän,
Punalintu puita pilkkoi,
Tianen pani olutta.
Hyvin se tianen tiesi,
Osasi oluen panna,
Vaan ei tiennynnä nimetä.

Kissa virkkoi kiukoalta,
Kasi lausui lauan päästä:
"Olut on oikia nimensä,
Hyvä juoma hurskahille,
Paha paljo juonehille;
Hurskahat ilottelevi,
Hullut tappeloittelevi."

Tianenpa pieni lintu,
Varpunen vähävarainen,
Kutsui paljo vierahia
Oluille juotaville;
Hyvä oli juoma hurskahille,
Paha paljo juonehille:
Pani se hullut huiskamahan,
Mielipuolet meiskamahan.

Tianenpa pieni lintu,
Varpunen vähävarainen,
Ei voinut kotona olla,
Piti metsähän paeta.

188. Venehen synty

Kävin tietä tengollista,
Maata maksan karvallista,
Siltoa sinikivoista,
Ojan porrasta punaista;
Tuli honka vastahani,
Mie tuota kyselemähän
"Syntyykö veno sinusta?"—

"Syntyypä veno minusta;
Kaiken käunoista kevättä,
Vielä viime viikollaki,
Käki kukkui latvoillani,
Mesi tippui lehvistäni,
Päivä kiersi keskipuuta."

Kutsuin veikon veistämähän—
"Käy venettä veistämähän!"
Kävi veikko veistämähän;
Veikkoni venettä veisti,
Kilkkavalla kirvehellä,
Kalkkavalla kalliolla.
Vene syntyi vestämällä,
Laiva lastun ottamalla;

Kävi nuoret soutamahan,
Nuoret souti, airot notkui;
Kävi vanhat soutamahan,
Vanhat souti, pää vapisi.

Source Colophon

Finnish source text from Elias Lönnrot, Kanteletar: Suomen kansan wanhoja lauluja ja wirsiä (Helsinki, 1840). Digitized from the first edition by Project Gutenberg (eBook #7078, released December 2004). Public domain. Spelling follows Lönnrot's 19th-century orthography (e.g., Wäinämöinen for modern Väinämöinen, wettä for vettä).

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