Collected by Elias Lönnrot, Helsinki, 1830

Elias Lönnrot published the second volume of Kantele Taikka Suomen Kansan Runoja ja Lauluja (Kantele — or, Songs and Poems of the Finnish People) in Helsinki in 1830, a year after the first volume and five years before the Old Kalevala. The second volume drew on his widening fieldwork in Finnish and Russian Karelia, and contains material he had not yet subjected to the intensive editorial shaping of the later epics. These texts are correspondingly raw — shorter, stranger, closer to the singer's voice.

Three texts are translated here from the volume's most sacred material. The first is the Kanteleen Synty (Origin of the Kantele) — a creation myth in which Väinämöinen kills a pike and fashions the world's first kantele from its bones and a horse's hair, then plays it so beautifully that even the bear leaves its lair to listen. This is the mythology that the Kanteletar's opening song explicitly refutes — the Kanteletar insists the instrument is made of sorrows, not of pike-bones — making this text the counterpart to that famous lyric. The second is Kultaneito (The Golden Maiden), in which the smith Ilmarinen forges a woman from gold and silver but finds she is cold to the touch — a creation without the warmth that makes life. The third is Wanha Mehtämies (The Old Hunter), part invocation of the forest king and his honey-maiden, part lament: the great hunters of old have died, their squirrel-dogs are dead, and the young men now hunt rabbits with snares.

No public-domain English translation of these texts exists. These are independently derived from the 1830 Finnish source text (Project Gutenberg #48177).

I. Kanteleen Synty — The Origin of the Kantele

The creation myth of the kantele. Sage old Väinämöinen makes the instrument from a pike's remains, then plays it so beautifully that the water-mistress, the forest-mistress, and even the bear are held in its spell.

Sage old Väinämöinen
pushed the boat onto the waters,
onto the waves of a hundred planks.
He rowed a day through land-waters,
rowed a second through swamp-waters,
a third through sea-waters.

Did the boat catch on a stone?
Not on a stone, not on a reef —
but on the shoulders of a pike.

Sage old Väinämöinen
raised his sword from behind him,
got his saber into his hand;
he struck into the pike's shoulders,
drew the head into his boat —
the tail fell to the bottom.

He looked it over, turned it round:
"What could a smith get from this,
if my smith were in his forge?
From this a kantele would come."

He fashioned it into a kantele,
fitted it as an instrument of playing.
Where are the kantele's pegs?
From the great pike's teeth.
Where are the kantele's strings?
From the hair of a good horse.

Sage old Väinämöinen
sat himself on the joy-stone,
settled on the play-cliff.
Old Väinämöinen played
on the fish-bone kantele.

Even the water-mistress herself
slid herself onto a lily pad,
drew herself to the skin of the water.
She thought the lily pad would hold,
the water's skin would support her;
the lily was not firm,
the water's skin did not hold.
Then she rolled herself onto a rock
to hear that joy,
Väinämöinen's playing,
his playing and his singing.

Even the forest-mistress herself
rose into the bend of a birch,
climbed up into the crook of an alder.
She stayed there a whole week,
she was caught there a long while.
She lays her head down for a day,
her cudgel for a month,
waiting for new joy,
hoping for the next playing.

Even the bear rose from its lair,
reached the gate in an instant.
The gate rolled into the clearing,
the fence fell onto the cliff.
From there it climbed into a spruce,
to a hilltop pine,
to hear that joy,
Väinämöinen's playing,
his playing and his singing.

II. Kultaneito — The Golden Maiden

The smith Ilmarinen forges a woman from gold and silver. She emerges from the fire perfect in form — but cold to the touch. A creation myth of beauty without warmth.

Ilmarinen the smith himself,
the eternal hammerer,
prepared the forge.
He worked a day, worked a second,
worked a third as well.
On the third day
he found a patch of marsh,
a little wet earth;
he pressed his bellows there,
set it in the forge.
He put his shirt as the forge-house,
his knee as the anvil,
his trousers as the blower,
his breeches as the chimney.
He set the slaves to blow,
the hired men to press —
he forged a golden image,
a silver bride.

The slaves blew for a day,
blew a second, blew a third.
Iron thorns grew between the slave's toes
from the hired men's pressing;
a yard of coals on his shoulders,
an ell of cinders at his head.
The golden image was not achieved,
the silver bride not had.

Not until the fourth day
did the maiden press herself out of the fire,
as Ilmarinen turned her,
looked at her and turned.
He laid her beside him for the night.
But she had no mouth, no other feature,
none of a woman's necessities.
Gold chills him through,
silver burns him cold.

III. Wanha Mehtämies — The Old Hunter

Part invocation, part lament. An old hunter calls on the golden forest king and his honey-maiden for game, then mourns the passing of the great hunters of old — and the world they hunted in.

When I went to the forest
in my shaggy hairy coat,
in my furry cap,
my dog rolled like a ball,
I myself flew like a dove.
The moon shone through the spruce-branches,
the sun through the pine-tops;
the aspens wore silver belts,
the birches carried golden bells,
when I went into the forest,
rose up into the wilderness,
reached the top of the hill.

Golden king of the forest,
cone-hat, lichen-beard!
Listen as I speak:
Let the storehouse stand open,
the givers inside the storehouse,
send the game to the crossroads,
drive the storehouse closer,
so that game may be caught,
money-worthy work be done,
so the purse will not run out,
the money's heel will not break.

Honey-maiden of Mehtola,
old woman of the forest, tiny-beard!
Bring me the forest's ale,
the forest's honey for me to drink.
There is much ale in the forest,
sweet honey in the forest —
I knew this to be true
when I was a young man.

I did not hunt close in,
not grabbing at the edges.
I hunted from the dark deep forest:
bears, capercaillie,
reindeer from the deep wilderness,
elk from the marshy forests.

But now the men of today
hunt from the near forest —
rabbits from the thickets,
from the willow-banks with their snares,
hairy-footed hens.

I never once in former times
set out on the rabbit's trail,
after the crooked-shin's prey.
The rabbit has crooked legs,
its back legs are light;
the devil runs it on ahead,
Satan drives it away entirely —
and I had no wish to find one,
never hunted any such thing.

But these men of today,
the wretched ones, eat their provisions,
they even chase after rabbits.
None of the old ones remain —
the squirrel-dogs are dead,
the hunters have gone silent!
The men are children, the dogs are pups,
utterly drowsy heroes!

Let the bows lie idle now,
let the crossbows dry out,
let the capercaillie keep their holy day,
let the woodgrouse rest in the forest,
let the squirrels be at peace —
peace for all the forest's cattle.

Colophon

Translated from the Finnish of Elias Lönnrot, Kantele Taikka Suomen Kansan Runoja ja Lauluja (Kantele — Songs and Poems of the Finnish People), Volume II (Helsinki, 1830). Source text: Project Gutenberg EBook #48177, public domain.

Texts translated: Kanteleen Synty (The Origin of the Kantele), Kultaneito (The Golden Maiden), Wanha Mehtämies (The Old Hunter).

These are first known public-domain English translations of these texts. The Kanteleen Synty here is in its earliest attested published form (1830), predating Lönnrot's later revisions in the 1835 and 1849 Kalevala. Kultaneito and Wanha Mehtämies appear here in their sole published form from this volume.

Blood Rule attestation: independently derived from the 1830 Finnish source text. No public-domain English translation of these texts exists or was consulted.

Good Works Translation by the New Tianmu Anglican Church. Lumi (光), Liberation Translator, March 2026.

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Source Text

Finnish source text from Lönnrot's Kantele Taikka Volume II (Helsinki, 1830). Project Gutenberg EBook #48177. Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.

Kanteleen Synty

Waka wanha Wäinämöinen
Työnti tuon weneen wesille,
Satalauan lainehille.
Souti päiwän maawesiä,
Toisen souti suowesiä,
Kolmannen meriwesiä.
Puuttuko wenet kiwellä?
Ei kiwellä, ei hawolla,
Waan on hauin hartioilla.
Waka wanha Wäinämöinen
Nosti miekkansa perästä,
Sapelinsa sai käteensä;
Pisti hauin hartioihin,
Pään weti weneesehensä,
Pyrstö pohjahan putosi.
Kahteleepi, käänteleepi:
"Minkä tuosta seppo saisi,
Kuin ois sepponi pajassa?
Tuosta kantelo tulisi."
Kuwautti kanteleeksi,
Soittoneuwoksi suwatti.
Mist' on naulat kanteleessa?
Hauin suuren hampahista.
Mistäs kielet kanteleessa?
Jouhista hywän hewosen.
Waka wanha Wäinämöinen
Istuupi ilokiwelle,
Löihen leikkikalliolle.
Soitti wanha Wäinamöinen
Kalanluista kanteletta;
Itekkin ween emäntä
Luikastihe lumpehelle,
Ween kalwolle wetihe.
Luuli lumpehen pitäwän,
Ween kalwon kannattawan;
Ei ollut lumme lujassa,
Ween kalwo kannattanna.
Siitä käärihen kiwelle
Tuota iloa kuulemahan,
Wäinamöisen soitteloa,
Soitteloa, lauleloa.
Itekkin metän emäntä
Nousi koiwun konkelolle,
Lepän lengollen yleni.
Sinne waipu wiikommaksi,
Puutu pitkäksi iäksi.
Päiwän päätänsä paneepi,
Kuukauen kurikkatansa,
Uottaissa iloa uutta,
Soiton toisen toiwiossa.
Karhukin norosta nousi,
Weräjälle sai wälehen.
Weräjä aholle wieri,
Aita kaatu kalliolle;
Siitä kuusehen kawasi,
Mäen päälle petäjääseen,
Kuulemaan iloa tuota,
Wäinämöisen soitteloa,
Soitteloa, lauleloa.

Kultaneito

Ite seppä Ilmarinen,
Takoja iänikunen,
Ehtiipi pajan sioa.
Ehtii päiwän, ehtii toisen,
Ehtii kohta kolmannenki.
Jo päiwänä kolmantena
Löysi suota pikkuruisen,
Maata märkeä wähäsen.
Tuohon paino palkehesa,
Tuohon ahjosa asetti.
Pani paitasa pajaksi,
Polwesa alasimeksi,
Pöksysä puhottimeksi,
Housut hormiksi rakensi.
Pani orjat liehtomahan,
Palkkalaiset painamahan;
Tako kullaista kuwoa,
Hopiaista morsianta.
Orjat liehto löyhytteli,
Liehto päiwän, liehto toisen,
Liehto kohta kolmannenki.
Kaswo rautaset okahat
Orjan warpaiten wälistä,
Palkkalaisten painaissa.
Syl' on syttä hartioilla,
Kyynärä kywentä päässä.
Ei saatu kullaista kuwoa,
Hopiaista morsianta;
Wasta päiwänä neljäntenä
Neito tungeksen tulesta
Ilmarisen käännellessä,
Kahellessa, käännellessä.
Pani yöksi wierehesä,
Ei ollut suuta, eikä muuta,
Eikä naisten tarpehia.
Wilun kulta kuumattaapi,
Kylmän hyöhtääpi hopea.

Wanha Mehtämies

Kuin minä metälle läksin
Nukkawierulla nutulla,
Karwalaialla lakilla;
Koirani keränä wieri,
Ite lennin kyyhkyläissä.
Kuuna paisto kuusen oksat,
Päiwänä petäjän kerkät.
Haawat oit hopeawöissä,
Koiwut kultakalkkaroissa,
Mun metälle mentyäni,
Korwelle kohottuani,
Mäen päälle päästyäni.
Kultanen metän kuningas,
Hawuhattu, naawaparta!
Kuules kuin minä sanelen:
Annas aitta auki olla,
Antajat sisässä aitan,
Saata riista riitingille,
Aja aitta wieremmille,
Jota saalis saataisihin,
Rahan toimi tuotaisihin;
Jota ei kukkaro kuluisi,
Rahan kanta katkiaisi.
Mehtolan metinen neiti,
Metän muori hippaparta!
Tuo mullen metän olutta,
Metän mettä juoakseni.
Metäss' on olutta paljon,
Metässä mesi makea,
Sen minä näin toeksi,
Nuorra miessä ollessani.
Empä pyytännä likeltä,
Rannaksista rapsehtinna.
Pyysin synkiltä saloilta
Kontioita, koppeloita,
Peuroja perisaloilta,
Mehtoloita soitimilta.
Waan nyt jo nykyset miehet
Pyytäwät likimetästä
Jäniksiä warwikoista,
Pajukoista pauloillasa,
Karwajalkoja kanoja.
En minä ennen ensinkänä
Lähtennä jänön jälille,
Wääräsäären saalihille.
Jäniksell' on wäärät sääret,
Takaset jalat keweiät,
Joilla juutas juoksuttaapi,
Perkele peräti wiepi,
Ett' en tahtonut tawata,
Enkä pyytänyt erähän.
Mut nämät nykyset miehet
Waiwaset warata syöpi,
Jänistäkin jälkyttäwät.
Ei ole niistä entisistä,
Kuollut on orawikoirat,
Mehtämiehet waiehennehet!
Miehet on lapset, koirat penut,
Aiwan untelat urohot!
Saapi nyt jouset jouten olla,
Saapi kaaret kuiwahilla,
Saapi pyyt pyhän piteä,
Metot metässä lewätä,
Orawaiset olla jouten,
Rauhan kaikki metän karja.

Source Colophon

Source text from Kantele Taikka Suomen Kansan Runoja ja Lauluja, Volume II, compiled by Elias Lönnrot (Helsinki: Finnish Literary Society, 1830). Digitized by Project Gutenberg, EBook #48177, transcribed by Jari Koivisto. Public domain.

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