a tale from Kautokeino, from J. A. Friis, Lappiske Sprogprøver (1856)

Told in North Sámi at Guovdageaidnu (Kautokeino) and printed by Jens Andreas Friis in 1856, in Sámi only, this tale begins with a poor lad who lets a fish go back into the water and is given whatever he thinks of. It follows him as he loses the gift by telling the king where he got it and is forgiven once, and as, grown rich and proud, he turns away a poor man who comes to him for light, until he remembers what the fish told him.

Translation

There was once a poor lad, and he had an old mother living. One time the lad went to fetch water from the spring, and it was early morning then. When he came to the spring and scooped up water with his pail, he saw that there was a fish in his pail. He was glad to have got the fish, for he was so poor in the goods that keep the body alive.

But when the lad set off for home, the fish said: "Let me go back into the water!" The lad said: "And let go of something to eat with my bread, too? I won't let you go, not in any way; I need you to eat with my bread!" Then the fish said: "If you let me go into the water, you shall have everything that you think of for yourself." So the lad let it go back into the water; and when he came to his hut, to his mother, he told his mother that he had got a fish, but he had let it go back, and the fish had gone back to where it had come from.

Then the mother said to her son: "Why did you let it go, as if we were rich folk, when there is nothing at all for us two to eat even now? If you had not let that fish go, we two would surely have had something to eat now." Then the lad went out into the wilds to walk about; and when he had walked a little while, he broke off small twigs, a full armful, went home, and carried the twigs to the back of the hut.

His mother asked him: "What do you mean to do with those twigs?" The lad said to her: "I mean to eat them, for they are my fish." And when the lad had said that, he thought: "If only these twigs would turn into fish now, so that we two might have something to eat!" And the twigs turned into fish, and so the two of them got fresh fish and had something to eat.

Then another time the lad went out again into the wilds to hunt wild reindeer. But as the lad was coming home from the wilds, he saw that his hut had burned. So the lad set off home, running very fast, and he thought besides: "Now my old mother may well have burned too." Then he came near the hut, and saw that his mother was walking about outside the hut.

He rejoiced greatly in his heart when he saw that his mother was still alive, though he had thought: "Now my mother may well have burned up already together with the hut." But his mother was so capable that she had dragged the cord and the kettle out of the hut, which had burned while he had gone into the wilds to hunt wild reindeer, so that the two of them might have fresh meat to eat.

Then the lad thought: "If only there might be for us two an even better house, or a dwelling, where we two could live!" But when the lad had thought it, there came to be in that place a most beautiful farmstead, and the two of them lived in that farmstead. Then the lad thought again: "If only there might be a cow-byre as well!" and when he had thought it, it came to be. Now when he saw that all that the fish had told him was true, the lad went on thinking of whatever he desired; and everything that he needed for himself as his goods, that he got.

At last the lad began to grow proud, and thought: "If only I might get money now, in real plenty!" And he got it, in great plenty. And when he had got it, he went to the king and told him what kind of man he was. Then the king began to question him eagerly: "How have you come by this?" But the lad did not yet dare to tell it, for he was afraid that he might never again get anything good, if he told it. But at last the king talked him into telling.

Then the lad said: "One early morning I had gone to fetch water from the spring, and when I came to the spring, I scooped. Then I saw that there was a fish in my pail, and the fish opened its mouth, began to speak, and said: 'If you let me go again now, you shall have everything you wish for!' So I let it go, and I did not regret that fish any more."

Then he set off homeward to his house. But his house was far away from there, and when he had set out, he thought: "If only I might come home to my house soon!" But he came no faster for that, and then he saw that he had no power left of any kind. So he was a long time on the way before he came to his house. But when he came to his house, he went down on his face, wept, prayed, and said: "Woe, woe is me, how foolish I was to tell where I had got the gift!"

And when he had been in that place for one hour, the fish came to him and said: "What are you weeping for?" And the lad said: "I am weeping because through my great disobedience I have lost the good gift that you had given me." Then the fish asked: "Why did you lose it?" The lad answered: "I told it to the king, and you had not allowed that, but I did it against your will."

Then the fish said to the lad: "Just this once I forgive you; but if you tell it a second time, you shall not get it again, never, that gift, but you shall lose it for ever." Then he got that power again, that whatever he thought of, he got. But when the lad had lived five years from the time he had spoken with that fish, he had grown proud again, for he had become so rich.

Then one time a poor married man came to him. Now the lad had run out of light; he had nothing of any kind to make light with. And the poor man said to the rich one: "Won't you give me light, so that I may see to teach my children their letters on Sunday evening?" The rich lad said: "I have no light, nor anything of any kind to make light with!" But then the lad thought: "I cannot bear to be without light," and he wished: "Would there were light now!" At once he found golden candles on his table, and in plenty.

Now when the poor man saw that he had candles in such plenty, he begged him all the same: "Would you not be so good as to give me just a little bit, so that I may see to teach my small children their letters? For I would so much wish that they should become good people in their lives." The lad had not the heart to give those beautiful golden candles to the poor man, but grew angry and said: "I am not bound to keep you in light; why do you bother me and pester me!"

The poor man said: "Not for any merit of mine, but if only you would have pity on poor me! And if you have none to spare otherwise, then let me have it on credit; perhaps I shall get something from my father to pay with." The rich lad said: "From your father, and from your father again! How then are you to get anything from your father, when your father was just as poor as you are yourself, and he is not even alive any more!" The poor one said: "My father does not die, not in all eternity; he lives always, and gives his gifts in his own time."

The rich lad said: "Then let him give you light now, if he is alive and if he is rich, so that you do not pester me any more!" The poor lad said: "Oh dear, now I am at a loss!" The rich lad said: "Be so good, and walk out now!" The poor lad said: "I knew as much already, that this is how it would turn out."

Then the rich lad grew angry without cause; he seized him by the shoulder and yanked him out through the door, and said: "Go your way, and give me peace!" Then the poor man was at first frightened, and thought: "Now he may well beat me, if he does not kill me outright! Oh, oh, don't, my good dear man! Forgive me, I will not pester you any more!"

Then he went out, bowed down on his face, began to weep, cried with a loud voice, and said: "Oh, oh, how unhelpful some rich folk are towards the poor, as that man was towards me just now!" The rich lad heard it inside, and then he remembered what the fish had said to him before: "If you grow proud, you will become unhappy for ever."

Then he ran out and went to the poor man and said: "My brother, my brother, weep no more! You said to me: 'Don't, my good dear man! Forgive me, I will not pester you any more!' But would you now forgive me too, for I did not give you light when you longed for it. Come in with me now, at once; you shall have from me then everything that you need." But the poor lad had grown so afraid that he hardly dared to come in; he stayed outside, grieving over his poverty.

Then the rich lad made ready, as quickly as he could, sweet things to eat and to drink, and bade the poor lad come in; he took him by the hand and led him in, sat him down at the table, and said: "Eat and drink together with me! Let us two rejoice in what our father has given, and let us not remember any more what happened a while ago." And the two of them ate and drank and rejoiced together until the evening of that day.

Then the rich lad asked the poor lad: "How many children have you?" The poor lad answered: "I have seven!" Then the rich lad said: "I will give you as many lights as you have children, and for yourself, and for your wife"; and he gave books besides, one for each of them, and food. Then the poor man went home with great joy, and came to his house.

Colophon

Translated from the North Sámi of Lappiske Sprogprøver: en Samling af lappiske Eventyr, Ordsprog og Gaader, edited by J. A. Friis (Christiania: J. W. Cappelen, 1856), pp. 64–68, from the group printed under the running head Goudogæjno (Kautokeino). Friis printed it in Sámi only. The text was transcribed from the page images of the New York Public Library copy, and Friis's own corrections for pp. 67 and 68 were applied (olbmuk ællëmæsëk for albmuk allëmæsëk, celkik for celki). Words were checked in the Sámi–Norwegian glossary that Friis printed at the back of the same book, and in his larger Ordbog over det lappiske Sprog (1887): gæfhe is poor; gojstit is to scoop, and an æbbar is a pail; oaǯǯe is flesh, the body, bajas-doallatussa (printed bajas-doallahusa) is sustenance, and obmudak is goods or provisions, so the lad is "poor in the goods that keep the body alive"; a kakko is a cake of bread, and sule is savoury food eaten with bread, so the lad wants the fish "to eat with my bread"; risaš and duorga are twigs, and sala (Friis adds fatme) is a fathom or an armful, here "a full armful"; the boaššo is the innermost part of the turf hut, its place of honour, here "the back of the hut"; godde is the wild reindeer, and mæcce the outlying wilds; on is "again"; arigalaš (Friis adds doajmalaš) is capable, deft; badde is a band or cord, and kjevdne a kettle; a gardën is a farmstead, and a navet a cow-byre; goargasmuvvat is to grow proud; sarnotet is to talk someone into something; gattat is to regret or to miss; vuojbme is strength or power; agjanet is to linger or be held up; rokkadallat is to pray; æppegullovuotta (printed æbbegullovuođainam) is disobedience; suovvat is to permit, and datto is will; dam have is "this time", and andagassi addet is to forgive; age bæjvai is "for ever"; stavehallat is to keep teaching someone to spell, here "to teach their letters"; gillat is to bear; a gintal is a candle; raske, with a negative, is not to have the heart to; muosehuttet is to disturb and vuorjat to pester; ansia is merit, and arbmostallat to have pity; ligot, Friis's own gloss on likod, is to have to spare, and vælgas bigjat is to let someone have a thing on credit; na'go is "perhaps"; agalaǯǯat is everlastingly; vuorrastuvvat is to be at a loss, in a fix; bærehaga is without cause; oalge is the shoulder, and rottit to jerk or tear violently; gæjdno is the way, and rafhe peace; vuočan is "first, at first"; cabmet is to beat; gobmolet is to bow down; avketæbme or -hæbme (printed aukehæmëk) is unhelpful; likkohuvvat is to become unhappy; haliduvvat is to long for something; baljo (Friis 1887; printed paljo) is "much", with a negative; surgotallat (printed surgohallat) is to grieve over; njalgis is sweet; æskaš is recent, and aše a matter; girje is a book. Several readings rest on context. Hohoj, the poor lad's cry, is given as "Oh dear" from context; Bâđi, which the mother saves with the kettle, is taken as Friis's badde "band", and the English says "the cord"; what kind of cord it was, the tale does not say. "De dam bardnëst læi nokkam čuovga" is read of the rich lad, who then says that he has no light and wishes for it, rather than of the poor man. Jos irak goddič is read as "if he does not kill me outright", taking irak as the negative i with -rak "altogether" (Friis: -Rak, "aldeles"); the form goddič, from goddet "kill", is in neither dictionary. N'ago mon oǯučam is read as "perhaps I shall get" (oǯudet, "seek to get"). The -s of Ikgos is unexplained; the English reads it as the question "Won't you". Galle mon dam jo legjim is read as "I knew as much already". The Sámi ačče, "father", has no capital letter, and the English keeps "father". Friis prints no closing quotation mark after čuovga haga or after the rich lad's last speech; the English closes them where the narration takes up again.

No complete English translation of Friis's collection is known to us.

© 2026 Tianmu Anglican Church. This English translation is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0: you may share and adapt it for non-commercial use with credit to the Good Works Library, tianmu.org. The source text keeps its own terms. For other uses, see Rights and Reuse.

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Source Text: Gæfhës bardne ja guölle

North Sámi text as printed by Friis (1856), pp. 64–68, in his orthography, with Friis's corrections for pp. 67 and 68 applied; line-end hyphens are joined. Friis's two paragraphs are divided here at the same places as the English.

De læi okta gæfhës bardne, ja sust læi boarës ædne ællëme. De dat bardne vulgi muttomin čace vieǯǯat galdost, ja dalle læi arad iđđëd. Go bođi galdo lusa ja gojsti čace æbbarin, de ojni son, go guölle læi su æbbarëst. De likoi son, go guöle oaǯoi, dastgo son læi nu gæfhe dam oaǯǯe-bæle bajas-doallahusa obmodagast.

Mutto go bardne vuölgegođi ruoktod, de celki guölle: „Luojte muo fast ruoktod čaccai!“ Dajai bardne: „Ja luojtët vel kakko-sule, im luojte im lakkaige; mon darbašam du kakko-sulën!“ De dajai guölle, atte: „Jos don mu luojtak čaccai, de don oaǯok buok, maid don jurdašak aldsesad.“ De lujti bardne fastajn čaccai, ja go son bođi goattasis ædnës lusa, de son mujtali su ædnasis, atte son læi oǯǯom guöle, mutto son lujti ruoktod, ja guölle manai ruoktod, gost son læi boattam.

De celki ædne su bardnasis: „Manne don dam lujtik, dego mi riggasid (riggasak), vajko i læk i mikkege, maid moaj dalge galge borrat? Jos don dal ik lifči dam guöle lujtam, de moaj dal galle lifčime bæssam borrat.“ De vulgi bardne mæccai vaʒašët, ja go bardne oanekaš gaska vaʒʒam læi, de son doagjali smavva risačid dievva sala (fatme), vulgi ruoktod ja guddi daid duorgaid boššui.

De jærai su ædne sust: „Maid don ajgok dai duorgai gujm dakkat?“ Dajai bardne sudnji: „Mon ajgom dait borrat, dastgo dak læk must guölëk.“ Ja go bardne dam læi cælkam, de jurdëli bardne: „Vare dal dak duorgak šaddaši guöllën, vaj moi bæsašeime borrat!“ De duorgak šadde guöllën, ja de soaj oǯoiga vârâs gulid ja bæsaiga borrat.

De on muttomin fast vulgi bardne mæccai goddid bivdët. Mutto go bardne ruoktod boatteme læi mæcëst, de fuomaši bardne, atte su goatte læi buöllam. De vulgi bardne ruoktod viekkat jura jottelët ja vela jurdëli son, atte: „De dal dajda mu boarës ædne majda buöllam.“ De bođi lâkkâ goađe ja ojni, atte su ædne vaʒaša olgo-bæld goađe.

De iloši son jura stuorrat su vajmostës, go son ojni, atte su ædne ajn ælla, vajko son gaddi, atte: „De dajda muo ædne jo buöllam oftanaga daina gođin.“ Mutto su ædne læi nuft arigalaš (doajmalaš), atte dat læi gæssam bâđi ja kjevdni olgus erit dam goađëst, mi læi buöllam dam bodda, go son læi mæccai mannam goddid bivdët dam varas, atte vaj soaj lifčiga oǯǯom vârâs biergo borrat.

De bardne jurdëli, atte: „Vare dal šaddaši monnoidi vela buöreb viesso dajhe viste, gost moaj oǯǯo orrot!“ Mutto go bardne dam læi jurdëlam, de šaddai dasa oalle čabba gardëm, ja soaj oroiga dam gardëm siste. De jurdëli fastajn bardne, atte: „Vare dal šaddaši vela navet!“ ja go son læi dam jurdëlam, de dat šaddai. Go son dal dam fuomaši, atte dat læ duotta buok, maid guölle sudnji læi cælkam, de ajn dat bardne jurdëli, færra maid son halidi; ja buok, maid son darbaši aldsis obmodakkan, dam son oaǯoi.

Maŋŋemuǯǯi de bardne goargasmuvvagođi ja jurdëli, atte: „Vare mon dal oǯušim ruđa riekta valljët!“ De son dam oaǯoi jura valljogasat. Ja go son dam læi oǯǯom, de vulgi gonagas lusa ja sardnoi, maggar olmaj son læ. De riemai gonagas viššalët jærahët, atte: „Movt don dam læk oǯǯom?“ Mutto i bardne dam vela duostam mujtalët, dastgo son balai, atte i son dajde šat æmbo goassege oaǯǯot maidege burid, go son dam mujtaladda. Mutto maŋŋemuǯǯi de sarnoti gonagas su mujtalët.

De celki bardne: „De mon legjim vuölgam okta arad iđđëd galdost čače vieǯǯat, ja go mon bottim galdo lusa, de mon gojstijim. De fuomašim mon, atte muo æbbarëst læi okta guölle, ja dat guölle njalmës rabasti, sardnogođi ja celki: „Jos don dal mu fast lujtak, de don oaǯok buok, maid don siđak!“ De mon lujtim su ja im mon šat gattam dam guöle æmbo.“

De son dalle vulgi ruoktod guvlui dallosis. Mutto su dallo læi gukkjën dast erit, ja go son dal læi vuölgam, de son jurdëli, atte: „Vare mon dal boađašim farga mu dallosam!“ Mutto i son boattam dađe jottelebbut, ja de son fuomaši, atte i sust læk šat æmbo mikkege vujmid. De agjani son nu gukka, oudal go son bođi su dallosis. Mutto go bođi dallosis, de son manai muođoidës ala, čieroi, rokkadalai ja celki: „Vuoj, vuoj mu, man jalla mon legjim, go mon dam mujtalim, gost mon legjim dam addaldaga oǯǯom!“

Ja go son dam bajkëst læi læmaš ovta timo, de guölle bođi su lusa ja celki: „Maid don čierok?“ De dajai bardne, atte: „Mon dam čierom, go mon læm mu stuorra æbbegullovuođainam massam dam buöre addaldaga, maid don legjik munji addam.“ De jærai guölle: „Manne don dam massik?“ Bardne vastëdi: „Mon sardnum dam gonagassi, ja don ik læk dam suovvam, mutto mon dam dakkim bagjel du dato.“

De celki guölle dam bardnai: „Jura dam have andagassi dudnji addam, mutto jos don vela nubbe gærde sardnok, de ik don šat oaǯo, ik goassege dam addaldaga, mutto don massak dam age bæjvai.“ De oaǯoi son fasten dam famo, atte buok, maid son jurdëli, de dam son oaǯǯo. Mutto go bardne læi ællam viđa jage dam rajast, go son læi daina gulin sardnodam, de læi son fasten goargasmuvvam, dastgo son læi nu riggës šaddam.

De muttomin bođi ofta gæfhës boadnje su lusa. De dam bardnëst læi nokkam čuovga, æi sust læm æi guđegelagaš čuovga-biergasak. De celki dat gæfhës boadnje dam riggasi: „Ikgos don addaši munji čuovga, vaj mon oajnašim sodna-bæjve ækkedëst stavehallat manaidam?“ De celki riggës bardne: „I must læk čuovga, æige guđegelagaš čuovga-biergasak!“ Mutto de jurdëli bardne, atte: „Im mon gilla orrot čuovga haga ja savali: „Vare dal čuovga!“ Dakkaviddi son gavnai bævdës ald golle-gintalid ja valljogasat.

Go dal dat gæfhës boadnje ojni, atte sust læk nu valljët gintalak, de almake anoi son, atte: „Ikgo don lifči nu buörre, atte addašik munji bittašage, vaj mon oajnašim stavehallat mu smavva manaidam; dastgo nu hallo lifči, atte dak galgaši šaddat buörëk olbmuk ællëmæsëk mield?“ Bardne i raske addët daid čabba golle-gintalid dam gæfhës boadnjai mutto suttai ja celki: „Im mon læk vælgolaš dudnji čuovga doallat; maid don must muosehuttak ja vuorjak!“

Gæfhës boadnje dajai: „Ik muo ansia ditti, mutto jos arbmostad mu gæfhai! Ja jos ik muđoi likod (ligod), de bija vælgas, n'ago mon oǯučam juojda ačëstam, maina mafsam.“ Riggës bardne dajai: „Ačëstad, ja ačëstad vel! Movt baj don galgak ačëstad oaǯǯot maidege, dastgo du ačče læi sæmma gæfhe go don ješ, ja dat i læk obba ællëmege šat!“ Celki gæfhe: „Mu ačče i jame i agalaǯǯat, son ælla alo ja adda su addaldagaidës ajgës mield.“

Celki riggës bardne. „Addus dalle dudnji dal čuovga, jos læ ællëme ja jos læ riggës, amad mu šat vuorjat!“ Celki gæfhës bardne: „Hohoj, de dal vuorrastuvvam!“ Riggës bardne celki: „Daga nu burist, vaʒʒël dal olgus!“ Gæfhës bardne dajai: „Galle mon dam jo legjim, atte nu dat dal šadda.“

De suttai bærehaga riggës bardne, doppi oalge-bællai ja rotti olgo-bællai uvsa ja celki: „Mana gæjdnosad ja adde munji rafhe!“ De gæfhës boadnje vuočan suorgani ja doajvoi, atte: „De dat dal dajda muo cabmët, jos irak goddič! Voj, voj, ale olbmačam buörre! Adde andagassi, im šat ajgo du vuorjat!“

De son manai olgus, gobmoli muođoidës ala, čierrogođi, čuorvoi alla jenain ja celki: „Voj, voj, man aukehæmëk læk muttim riggasak gefhi vuöstai, nugo dataj olmaj læi dal mu vuöstai!“ Riggës bardne gulai dam siste, ja de fuomaši, maid guölle læi sudnji oudal cælkam, atte: „Jos don goargasmuvvak, de don likkohuvvak age bæjvai.“

De son viekkali olgus ja manai dam gæfhës olbma lusa ja celki: „Mu vielljam, mu vielljam, ale čiero šat! Don celkik munji: „Ale olbmačam buörre! Adde andagassi, im mon ajgo šat du vuorjat!“ Mutto addašik dal dongis munji andagassi, dastgo mon im addam dudnji čuovgasa, go don haliduvvik. Boađe dal mu mield sisa dakkaviddi, don oaǯok dasto mu lute buok, maid don darbašak.“ Mutto de læi dat gæfhës bardne nu ballagoattam, atte i son paljo duostam boattët sisa, baci olgo-bællai surgohallat su gæfhevuođastës.

De riggës bardne rakadi nuft jottelët, go son sati njalga borramušaid ja jukkamušaid ja gočoi dam gæfhës bardne boattët sisa, valdi gitti ja lajdi sisa, čokkanatti bævde gurri ja celki: „Bora ja juga muina ovtast! Ilodædno moaj dai gujm, maid monno ačče læ addam, ja allo mujte šat æskaš aše.“ De soaj boraiga ja jugaiga ja ilodeiga ovtast dam bæjve ækkëd ragjai.

De jærai riggës bardne dam gæfhës bardnëst: „Galle mana dust læk?“ Gæfhës bardne vastëdi: „Must læk čieča!“ De celki riggës bardne: „Mon addam dudnji nu galle čuovga go dust læk manak, ja du ječad vuöllai ja du akad vuöllai, ja son vela addi girjid, oufta gænaj vuöllai, ja borramušaid. De vulgi gæfhës boadnje stuorra iloin ruoktod ja bođi su dallosis.

Source Colophon

J. A. Friis (ed.), Lappiske Sprogprøver (Christiania: J. W. Cappelen, 1856), pp. 64–68, with Friis's corrections for pp. 67 and 68 from his list of misprints. Public domain. Transcribed from the page images of the New York Public Library copy, digitized by Google (Internet Archive identifier lappiskesprogpr00friigoog); a former owner's handwritten marks in that copy are not part of the text. Friis's letters are kept as printed, including â, ö, ë, č, đ, š, ŋ, and both ʒ and ǯ, which he distinguishes.

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