Collected by Elias Lönnrot, Helsinki, 1830

The third fascicle of Kantele Taikka Suomen Kansan Runoja ja Lauluja (Songs and Poems of the Finnish People) appeared in 1830, the same year as the second. Where the second volume opened with creation myths of the kantele and a golden maiden, the third turns almost entirely to incantation: the ritual speech of the tietäjä (the "knower," the shaman-healer of Finnish folk tradition), in forms that predate by half a century the more polished versions Lönnrot would later gather in the Loitsurunoja (1880). These are the raw originals.

Three texts are translated here. The first is Raudan Synty (The Origin of Iron) — the mythological origin-charm that became the nucleus of Kalevala Canto 9. In this earliest attested form, iron is hidden in the crown of a great oak during the drought year; the wind breaks the oak into the mythological rapids of Rutja; maidens are born whose black, white, and red milk become the three grades of iron. The charm ends with an invocation of the bee to bring honey as ointment for iron-wounds, a healing formula standard across the Finnish incantation tradition. The second is Kipusanat (Pain Words) — an exorcism addressed to Kiwutar, the goddess of pain, and her sister Wammatar, commanding all pains to fly to Kipumäki (the Pain Mountain), where Kiwutar collects them in a tiny basket and boils them in an iron pot too small for any human to enter. The third is Tulen Synty (The Origin of Fire), the most elaborate: an origin-charm for healing burns, embedded in a mythological narrative in which Väinämöinen's fishing expedition releases a fire-spark from nested fish, the spark escapes and burns people, and the healer must learn fire's true origin — from Jesus's cradle, high in heaven, lulled in silver straps — before invoking Ukko and the Virgin Mary to quench it.

The 1830 variants here are in some cases rawer and more explicitly syncretic — Väinämöinen and Jesus stand side by side without apology — than the later loitsurunoja compilations. They show Lönnrot's material before his editorial harmonizing. No public-domain English translation of these texts exists. These are independently derived from the 1830 Finnish source text (Project Gutenberg #48201).

I. Raudan Synty — The Origin of Iron

The iron origin-charm: iron is stored in cloud and oak during the drought year, born when wind-snapped oak-maidens weep milk of three colors. Iron is addressed directly — it was not always dangerous. The bee is invoked to bring healing honey for iron-wounds.

Where was iron kept
in that great drought year,
in that standing war-summer?
There was iron kept
in that great drought year,
in that standing war-summer:
on the rim of the long cloud,
in the crown of the level oak.

The wind rose up to blow,
the sky's edge rushed into roaring —
the wind left the trees needleless,
the heather flowerless,
the grasses without a blade.
The wind snapped the oak's crown
into Rutja's hard rapids,
and four maidens were born from it,
three full brides.

They sat facing east,
their backs turned toward the north,
they sat and they wept,
milking their milk to the earth,
their fluid to the meadow.
What milked the black milk —
from that came soft iron.
What poured the white —
from that steel was made.
What let fall the red —
from that came rough iron.

Oh you poor iron,
poor iron, primordial slag,
steel of the acorn's first day —
now you have grown into greatness
and grown yourself hard.
You were not great then,
not great and not small,
not very tall,
not very painful —
when you were kneaded from the bog,
taken from among the clay,
dug with fingers from the heath,
scratched with nails from the black earth,
hands not yet wetting in it,
toes not yet torn.

Oh you poor iron,
poor iron, primordial slag —
you were not great then,
not great and not small.

You stood clear as water,
rippled warm and close,
under the level sky.

Oh you poor iron —
you were not great then.

You called like a cuckoo in gold
beneath Ilmarinen's forge.

Iron would not be evil
but for the serpent's biting,
the black snake's cunning,
the ant's tickle-venom.
Hörhiläinen, Hiisi's bird,
threw its poisons
into the iron being forged,
into the steel being shaped.

Bee, bird of the air!
Fly and flutter there
over nine seas,
over the half of the tenth.
Dip your wing in the honey,
your pinion in the mead,
cook honey from your tongue,
let mead flow from your mouth —
from the tip of the golden flower,
from the bright top of the grass,
from that cold village
where no grass of any kind
has been seen or heard growing —
as ointment for wounds,
as healing for the ill,
that it not fester to pus,
nor seep into wet places,
nor crust over scabs.

II. Kipusanat — Pain Words

The exorcism of pain: pains are addressed as removable entities to be cursed away to Kipumäki, the Pain Mountain. Kiwutar the Pain Goddess gathers them in a tiny basket and boils them in an iron pot too small for any living thing — what enters there cannot return.

Let the pains fly there,
let the ailments sink there —
into Kiwutar's little basket,
into Wammatar's wicker tub!
It is hard to live in pain,
hard to dwell in wounds.
There I curse the pains away,
there I pack the bad away,
there I press down afflictions:
into the stony boulders,
into the iron ruins.

Kiwutar, old woman of pains!
Wrap the pains into your lap,
press the ailments to your chest.
Churn the pains with a churning stick,
shake the aches through a sieve —
to make the stones ache,
to give the boulders pain.
A stone does not weep from pain,
a boulder does not lament aches.

There I curse the pains away,
there I pack the bad away,
there I press down afflictions:
to the summit of the Pain Mountain,
to the heart of Kipumäki.

A stone stands in the middle of the hill,
a hole through the middle of the stone,
nine fathoms deep,
an arm's-length for the tenth.

Short old woman, daughter of Tuoni,
Kiwutar, old woman of pains,
Äkäätär, the fierce-eyed maiden —
who sits on the hill,
who walks along the hillside,
along the Pain Mountain's summit,
pain-mittens on her hands,
a pain-crook under her arm —
she gathers up the pains,
she rakes in the ailments,
into a spotted little basket,
into a copper wicker tub,
one finger wide to enter,
a thumb's-breadth to fit through.

There they boil the pains
in a tiny pot,
in an iron pan,
one finger wide to enter,
a thumb's-breadth to fit through.

There I now curse pains away,
there I press the headaches down —
a stone does not weep from pain,
a boulder does not lament aches,
even if much is piled in,
load after load is heaped there,
measured and shoveled higher.

Let the pains fly there,
out of this poor one's flesh —
let the anguish no longer be felt above,
let suffering not be pressed onto the heart.

III. Tulen Synty — The Origin of Fire

The fire origin-charm for healing burns: Väinämöinen's fishing nets catch a pike that contains a sorva, which contains a siika, which contains a red ball, which contains a fire-spark — the escaped spark burns people. The cosmic mother tells the healer fire's true origin: it was born from Jesus's lap and Väinämöinen's girdle, lulled in a golden cradle in heaven. The invocations that follow call Ukko to drown the fire and the Virgin Mary to anoint the burns.

An old field was burned
beside the fiery rapids,
at the bend of the fire-stream.
There linen was sown,
sown into the ashes,
plowed into the ashes.
At night the linen was sown,
at night the linen was retted,
at night the linen was pulled,
at night it was carried to the water,
at night drawn out of the water,
at night worked off the frame,
at night the threads were spun,
at night the nets were woven.
The nets were woven by brothers,
spun by sisters,
set on the father's cork-lines,
carried by brothers to the waters.

The brothers took them to the waters,
the namesakes went out to fish.
They hauled and they pulled —
no fish was caught,
no fish the kind they raced for.

Then old Väinämöinen himself
added still more net —
a fathom, seven hundred fathoms,
more rope, about ten lengths.
"Take the nets to the deep!"
The nets were taken to the deep,
carried out farther.

They hauled and they pulled —
a gray pike was caught,
the fish they had raced for.

They went to Manala for someone to split it,
searched below the earth —
they went, but found no one
who could split that pike.
They searched to the heavens,
beyond the star-enclosures —
they went, but found no one.

Then old Väinämöinen said:
"There is still a man I know,
a war-companion I shelter."

Kalervo's son came crawling
in iron gloves,
inside copper gauntlets.
From the direction of the north he seemed to come,
just his head visible over the fen —
frost in his armfuls,
ice under his armpits,
his sock in frost, his shoe in ice,
the hems of his shirt in rime.

He grabbed at the pike's belly —
inside was a blind sorva.
He split open the sorva's belly —
inside was a blue-gray siika.
He split open the siika's belly —
a red ball fell out.
The red ball was opened —
inside was a fire-spark.

The fire-spark darted
through nine windows,
through seven skylights —
it burned the boys' knees,
it broke the girls' chests,
it pierced the mothers through.

Veito carved oars from a spruce,
worked copper beneath an alder,
built a three-ribbed boat
in the corner of the forest.
The boat was finished.
Sampsa, son of Pellervoinen,
carved spruce for oars,
pine for the thwarts.

They rowed and they drifted,
around the river bends,
circling the river's headland.
The boat caught fast —
not on a stone, not on a reef —
on the shoulders of the great pike,
on the red salmon's tail.

A woman came to meet them,
speaking, saying:
"Where are you men from?"
"We are from the middle air."
"Where are you going?"
"We go to learn where fire came from,
to demand the fire back —
fire has done fierce things,
the flame has done great harm:
it burned the boys' knees,
it broke the girls' chests,
it pierced the mothers through.
Where are you from, poor woman?"

"I am Väinämöinen's mother,
Ilmarinen's father's wife.
I am the wife of five women,
the likeness of three brides.
I am the mother of wonders,
the eldest of all women,
the first mother of living things.

Fire is not born from the depths,
nor does it grow from the harsh —
it was born from Jesus's lap,
from old Väinämöinen's girdle.
There fire has been lulled to sleep,
the flame cradled and swayed,
high up in heaven,
in a golden cradle,
in silver straps.
There is the birth of fire.

When I call out powerfully,
the flame is seen from there,
drifting from far away,
from behind the red sea.

An icy pot on the fire,
icy peas inside,
an icy ladle in the pot.

When I call out suddenly,
a boy comes from the north,
a tall man from the Dark Land —
eyes frozen, knees in frost,
skin all wrapped in ice-vapor,
the floor in the power of snow.
When the old man enters the house,
when the awesome one steps in,
the hem of his fur coat strikes fire,
sparks fly from his shin-guards.

An icy pot in his hand,
an icy ladle in the pot,
icy peas inside.

Is there cold in the north?
Is there mead in Tapiola?
With that cold, cool it down.
With that ice, freeze it shut —
the ice with which the lakes were frozen,
the frost with which the seas were stilled.

O Ukko, lord on high,
old man of the heavens!
Press down into this fire,
sink into this flame.
Make the fire powerless,
make the flame harmless —
the Creator's silk as binding,
the Creator's cover overhead.

Water fell from the cloud —
even a tiny droplet.
In the drop is a wide pond,
in the pond is a red boat,
in the boat are three men —
they anointed the burned places
with ointments,
the pustules made in a week.

An icy old woman comes,
icy pot in her hand —
she comes to smother the fire,
icy pot in hand,
icy fluid in the pot —
with which she darkens the fire,
cools down what has burned.

Was it burned by reindeer-dung,
or by an open flame,
or might it have burned from water?
What burned by reindeer-dung —
cool it with that coldness.
What burned from water —
freeze it with that ice.
What burned from fire —
to that, apply five twigs.

Virgin Mary, mother,
pure old woman of form!
Anoint with those ointments,
smear with those fats —
nine ointments,
eight healings —
with which Jesus was anointed,
baptized by the almighty —
that it not fester to pus,
nor seep into wet places,
nor crust over scabs.
Make it whole in the night,
make it glorious by day."

Colophon

Translated from the Finnish of Elias Lönnrot, Kantele Taikka Suomen Kansan Runoja ja Lauluja (Kantele — Songs and Poems of the Finnish People), Volume III (Helsinki, 1830). Source text: Project Gutenberg EBook #48201, public domain.

Texts translated: Raudan Synty (The Origin of Iron), Kipusanat (Pain Words), Tulen Synty (The Origin of Fire).

These are first known public-domain English translations of these texts. The Raudan Synty here is in its earliest attested published form, predating the versions Lönnrot incorporated into Kalevala Canto 9 (1835) and the Loitsurunoja (1880). The Kipusanat and Tulen Synty are distinct 1830 variants of incantation types that appear in expanded form in the 1880 collection; the 1830 versions are rawer, shorter, and more strikingly syncretic — Väinämöinen and Jesus appear together without any editorial tension.

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. Paju, Liberation Translator, March 2026.

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Source Text

Finnish source text from Lönnrot's Kantele Taikka Volume III (Helsinki, 1830). Project Gutenberg EBook #48201. Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.

Raudan Synty

Miss' on rauta säilyletty
Sinä suurra poutawuonna,
Seisennä sotakesänä?
Tuoll' on rauta säilytetty
Sinä suurra poutawuonna,
Seisennä sotakesänä:
Pitkän pilwen rannan päällä,
Tammen latwassa tasasen.
Nousi tuuli tuulemahan,
Ilman ranta riehkimähän;
Tuuli puut hawuttomaksi,
Kanarwat kukattomaksi,
Heinät helpehettömäksi.
Tuuli taitto tammen latwan
Rutjan koskehen kowahan,
Tuosta synty neljä neittä,
Koko kolme morsianta.
Rinnoin istuwat itähän,
Perinpuolin pohjolahan,
Sekä istuit, että itkit,
Lypsit maalle maitoasa,
Niitylle nitusiasa.
Mikä lypsi mustan maion,
Siitä synty melto rauta;
Mikä walkian walutti,
Siitä tehtihin teräkset;
Mikä puotti punasen,
Siit' on tehty rääkky rauta.
Oh sinua rauta raukka,
Rauta raukka, koito kuona,
Teräs terhon päiwällinen
Joko suureksi sukesit,
Sekä kaswot karkiaksi;
Etsä sillon suuri ollut,
Etkä suuri, etkä pieni,
Etkä kowin korkiakaan,
Etkä kowin kipusaskaan;
Kuin sä suosta sotkettihin,
Saatihin sawen seasta,
Koprin kaiwain kankahasta,
Kynsin mustasta muasta;
Käsikarwain kastumata,
Warpain riwestymätä.
Oh sinua rauta raukka,
Rauta raukka, koito kuona!
Etsä silloin suuri ollut,
Etkä suuri, etkä pieni, j.n.e.
Seisoit we'ennä selkeänä,
Läykyit lämmynnä lähennä,
Alla taiwahan tasasen.
Oh sinua rauta raukka!
Etsä silloin suuri ollut j.n.e.
Kukuit kullassa käkönä
Alla ahjon Ilmarisen.
Ei rauta paha olisi
Ilman käärmehen kähytä,
Maon mustan mujuhita,
Kusiaisen kutkelmata.
Hörhiläinen Hiien lintu
Wiskasi wihoja noien
Rautoin rakettawihin,
Teräksihin tehtäwihin.
Mehiläinen ilman lintu!
Lennä tuonne löyhäytä
Yheksän meren ylite,
Meri puoli kymmennettä.
Pistä sulkasi sulassa,
Siipesi woia simassa,
Mesi keitä kieleltäsi,
Sima suustasi juloa,
Kukan kultasen nenästä,
Helewästä heinän päästä;
Siitä kylmästä kylästä,
Kuss' ei oo nähty, eikä kuultu,
Ruohon kaiken kaswantoa;
Kipehille woitehiksi,
Pahalle parantehiksi,
Jot' ei wiswoille wirusi,
Eikä menisi märille,
Eikä ruohtuisi rupeille.

Kipusanat

Kiwut tuonne kiityöhön,
Waiwat tuonne waipuohon,
Kiwuttaren kippasehen,
Wammattaren wakkasehen!
Kipeä on kiwuissa olla;
Waikea wammoissa asua.
Tuonne mä kiroon kipuja,
Tuonne mä pahoja panen,
Tuonne tunkeen turmioita:
Kiwisihin kallioihin,
Rautasihin raunioihin.
Kiwutar kipuen eukko!
Kiwut kääri helmohisi,
Waiwat wastaan rintoasi;
Kiwut puohtaa puohtimella,
Wammat seulalla selitä;
Kiwiä kiwistämähän,
Paasia pakottamahan.
Ei kiwi kipuja itke,
Paasi waiwoja walita.
Tuonne mä kiroon kipuja,
Tuonne mä pahoja panen,
Tuonne tunkeen turmioita:
Kipuwuoren kukkulalle,
Keskellen Kipumakiä.
Kiwi on keskellä mäkiä
Reikä keskellä kiweä,
Sywä syltöä yheksän,
Kyynäräinen kymmennettä.
Lyhyt akka Tuonen tyttö,
Kiwutar kipuin eukko,
Äkäätär neito äiä;
Mikä istuupi mäellä,
Kuka käy pitkin mäkiä,
Kipuwuoren kukkuloa,
Kipukintahat käessä,
Kipukänkä kainalossa;
Kipuja keräelewät,
Waiwoja wakoelewat,
Kirjasehen kippasehen,
Waskisehen wakkasehen,
Yhen sormen mentäwähän,
Peukalon mahuttawahan.
Siellä keittäwät kipuja,
Pikkasessa kattilassa,
Rautasessa riehtilässä,
Pienen sormen mentäwässä,
Peukalon mahuttawassa.
Sinne mä nyt kiroon kipuja,
Sinne tunkeen tuskapäitä;
Ei kiwi kipuja itke,
Paasi waiwoja walita,
Waikka paljon pantahisi,
Määrätä mätettähisi,
Äiin äyskäteltähisi.
Kiwut sinne kiityöhön,
Ihosta imehnoraukan;
Ettei tuskat päällä tunnu,
Pakko syämelle panete.

Tulen Synty

Hara wanha poltettihin,
Korwalla tulisen kosken,
Tulikosken kääntemällä.
Tuohon liina kylwettihin,
Kypenihin kylwettihin,
Kypenihin kynnettihin.
Yöllä liinat kylwettihin,
Yöllä liinat koirittihin,
Yöllä liinat nyhettihin,
Yöllä wietihin wetehen,
Yöllä weestä nostettihin,
Yöllä luista luistettihin,
Yöllä rihmat keträttihin,
Yöllä werkot kuottihin.
Werkot on weljesten kutomat,
Sisaresten keträmät,
Ison pauloille panemat,
Weljesten wesille wiemät.
Weiwät weljekset wesille,
Kaimakset kalahan läksi.
Weettiinpä, wemmottiinpa,
Ei saatu kaloa tuota,
Jota kilwoin pyyettihin.
Ite wanha Wäinämöinen
Wielä verkkoa lisäsi,
Syltää, seihtemän satoa,
Wielä köyttä kymmenkunta.
"Wiekäät werkkone sywille!"
Werkot wietihin sywille,
Etäämmäksi ennätettiin.
Weettiinpa, wemmottiinpa,
Saatiinpa hapea hauki,
Jota kilwoin pyyettihin.
Haettiinpa Manalasta,
Ehittiinpä maanki alta;
Ehittiinpä, eipä löytty
Joka hauin halkasisi.
Ehittiinpä taiwosesta,
Tähtitarhojen takoa;
Ehittiinpä, eipä löytty.
Sano wanha Wäinämöinen:
"Wiel' on miesi tieossani,
Sotisulho suojissani."
Kaalaapi Kalewan poika
Rautasissa rukkasissa,
Waskiwanttuen sisässä.
Tuulalta näkyy tulewan,
Yli jänkän pää näkyypi;
Hyytä hynkiä sylissä,
Jäätä jänkä kainalossa,
Hyyssä sukka, jäässä kenkä,
Hallassa hamosen helmat.
Tuo halasi hauin wahtan;
Tääll' oli sokia sorwa.
Halastiinpa sorwan wahta,
Tääll' oli sinerwä siika.
Halastiinpa siian wahta,
Putosi puna keränen.
Purettiin puna keränen,
Siell' oli tulikipuna.
Suikahti tulikipuna
Yheksästä ikkunasta,
Seihtemästä reppänästä,
Poltti tuo pojilta polwet,
Rikko rinnat tyttäriltä
Puhki paarmahat emoilta.
Weitoset wenoja weisti,
Kuparia alla kuusen,
Alla korwen kolkutteli
Kolmikaarista wenettä.
Sai wenonen walmihiksi.
Sampsa poika Pellerwoisen
Weisti kuusesta meloja,
Petäjästä jänkäleitä.
Soutelowat, joutelowat,
Ympäri newan jokia,
Newan nientä kiertelewät.
Tarttuupi wenonen kiinni,
Ei kiwellen, ei hawolle,
Hauin suuren hartioille,
Lohen purstollen punasen.
Waimo wastahan tuleepi,
Puhutellen, lausutellen:
"Mistäs oletta mies parat?"
"Me olemme keskiilmalta."
"Minne menettä mies parat?"
"Menemme tulta tiettämähän,
Walkiata waatimahan;
Tuli on tuima tieettäwä,
Walkiainen waaittawa.
Jo on tuli tuimat tehny,
Walkia pahat wahingot,
Poltti tuo pojilta polwet,
Rikko rinnat tyttäriltä,
Puhki paarmahat emoilta.
Mistäs olet waimo parka?"
"Mä olen emä Wäinämöisen,
Ilmarisen isän waimo;
Minull' on wihki wiien waimon,
Muoto kolmen morsiamen;
Minä olen emo imehien,
Sekä wanhin waimoloista,
Ensin emä ihtelöistä.
Ei tuli sywiltä synny,
Eikä kaswa karkialta,
Synty Jesuksen sylistä,
Wyöltä wanhan Wäinämöisen.
Tuoll' on tulta tuuwiteltu,
Walkiata waapoteltu,
Ylähällä taiwosessa,
Kultasessa kätkyessä,
Hihnoissa hopeisissa.
Siell' on nyt tulosen synty;
Kuin mä huuan huikiasti,
Tuolta walkia näkyypi,
Etähältä haalottaapi,
Takoa meren punasen.
Jäinen kattila tulella,
Jäiset hernehet sisässä,
Jäinen kauha kattilassa.
Kuin mä huuan hoiwahutan,
Tulee poika Pohjolasta,
Mies pitkä Pimentolasta,
Silmät jäässä, polwet hyyssä,
Iho kaikki iljenneessä,
Lattia lumen wäessä:
Ukon tullessa tupahan,
Astuissa aimomiehen,
Lyöpi tulta turkin helmat,
Säkehitä sääriwarret.
Jäinen on kattila käessä,
Jäinen kauha kattilassa,
Jäiset hernehet sisässä.
Onko hyytä Pohjolassa,
Simoa Tapiolassa?
Noilla hyillä hyywytellös,
Noilla jäillä jäähytellös,
Joill' on järwet jäähytelty,
Joill' on meret hyywytelty.
O Ukko ylinen herra,
Mies on wanha taiwahinen!
Tunkeite tähän tulehen,
Waiwu tähän walkiaseen.
Tee tuli tehottomaksi,
Walkia warattomaksi,
Siteheksi luojan silkki,
Luojan kalwe katteheksi.
Wesi pilwestä putosi,
Tuokin pikkanen pisara;
Pisarass' on lampi laaja,
Lammiss' on wene punanen,
Wenosess' on kolme miestä
Nuotpa woiti woitehilla
Paikkoja palanehita,
Wiikon wiswan tehnehitä.
Hyinen eukko tuo tuleepi
Hyinen kattila käessä
Tuo tulla tuhutteleepi,
Hyinen kattila käessä,
Hyinen nippi kattilassa;
Jolla tulta tummentelee,
Palanutta jäähyttelee.
Onko poltettu porolla
Tahi ilmiwalkialla,
Wai lienee weellä warilla?
Mikä lie poroin palanut,
Sitä hyyllä hyywytellös;
Mikä lie wesin palanut,
Sitä jäällä jäähytellös;
Mikä lie tulin palanut,
Siihen wiiskoos witiä.
Neityt Maaria emonen,
Puhas muori muoollinen!
Woia niillä woitehilla,
Niillä raswoilla rapaja,
Yheksillä woitehilla,
Kaheksilla kahtehilla;
Joill' on Jesus woieltuna;
Kastettuna kaikkiwalta;
Jot' ei wiswoillen wiruisi,
Eikä menisi märille,
Eikä ruwillen rupeisi.
Tee nyt yöllä terweheksi,
Päiwällä imanteheksi.

Source Colophon

Source text from Kantele Taikka Suomen Kansan Runoja ja Lauluja, Volume III, compiled by Elias Lönnrot (Helsinki: Wasenius, 1830). Digitized by Project Gutenberg, EBook #48201, transcribed by Jari Koivisto. Public domain.

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