The Kalevala, the final runes and departure: Rune 41 to 50

Suitable for all ages, Teens and up
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The Kalevala herald from when we northerners walked the Earth as Vikings, Norse men and Scandinavians long before any Nordic man and woman where ever known to the world as Vikings or in any way laid claim to any Christian values in any way shape and form.

Part Beowulf, part Iliad, ballads and poems, but all Nordic heritage.

Photography and web adaptation by Mike Koontz
2015, a Norse View Imaging and Publishing

Music of the day Ghost of navigator - by Iron Maiden

To the daisy that is my sun and inspiration

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[and chickens

son of evil ]

Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, The eternal wisdom-singer, Laves his hands to snowy whiteness, Sits upon the rock of joyance, On the stone of song be settles, On the mount of silver clearness, On the summit, golden colored; Takes the harp by him created, In his hands the harp of fish-bone, With his knee the arch supporting, Takes the harp-strings in his fingers, Speaks these words to those assembled: "Hither come, ye Northland people, Come and listen to my playing, To the harp's entrancing measures, To my songs of joy and gladness." Then the singer of Wainola Took the harp of his creation, Quick adjusting, sweetly tuning, Deftly plied his skillful fingers To the strings that he had fashioned. Now was gladness rolled on gladness, And the harmony of pleasure Echoed from the hills and mountains: Added singing to his playing, Out of joy did joy come welling, Now resounded marvelous music, All of Northland stopped and listened. Every creature in the forest, All the beasts that haunt the woodlands, On their nimble feet came bounding, Came to listen to his playing, Came to hear his songs of joyance. Leaped the squirrels from the branches, Merrily from birch to aspen; Climbed the ermines on the fences, O'er the plains the elk-deer bounded, And the lynxes purred with pleasure; Wolves awoke in far-off swamp-lands, Bounded o'er the marsh and heather, And the bear his den deserted, Left his lair within the pine-wood, Settled by a fence to listen, Leaned against the listening gate-posts, But the gate-posts yield beneath him; Now he climbs the fir-tree branches That he may enjoy and wonder, Climbs and listens to the music Of the harp of Wainamoinen. Tapiola's wisest senior, Metsola's most noble landlord, And of Tapio, the people, Young and aged, men and maidens, Flew like red-deer up the mountains There to listen to the playing, To the harp, of Wainamoinen. Tapiola's wisest mistress, Hostess of the glen and forest, Robed herself in blue and scarlet, Bound her limbs with silken ribbons, Sat upon the woodland summit, On the branches of a birch-tree, There to listen to the playing, To the high-born hero's harping, To the songs of Wainamoinen. All the birds that fly in mid-air Fell like snow-flakes from the heavens, Flew to hear the minstrel's playing, Hear the harp of Wainamoinen. Eagles in their lofty eyrie Heard the songs of the enchanter; Swift they left their unfledged young ones, Flew and perched around the minstrel. From the heights the hawks descended, From the clouds down swooped the falcon, Ducks arose from inland waters, Swans came gliding from the marshes; Tiny finches, green and golden, Flew in flocks that darkened sunlight, Came in myriads to listen; Perched upon the head and shoulders Of the charming Wainamoinen, Sweetly singing to the playing Of the ancient bard and minstrel. And the daughters of the welkin, Nature's well-beloved daughters, Listened all in rapt attention; Some were seated on the rainbow, Some upon the crimson cloudlets, Some upon the dome of heaven. In their hands the Moon's fair daughters Held their weaving-combs of silver; In their hands the Sun's sweet maidens Grasped the handles of their distaffs, Weaving with their golden shuttles, Spinning from their silver spindles, On the red rims of the cloudlets, On the bow of many colors. As they hear the minstrel playing, Hear the harp of Wainamoinen, Quick they drop their combs of silver, Drop the spindles from their fingers, And the golden threads are broken, Broken are the threads of silver. All the fish in Suomi-waters Heard the songs of the magician, Came on flying fins to listen To the harp of Wainamoinen. Came the trout with graceful motions, Water-dogs with awkward movements, From the water-cliffs the salmon, From the sea-caves came the whiting, From the deeper caves the bill-fish; Came the pike from beds of sea-fern, Little fish with eyes of scarlet, Leaning on the reeds and rushes, With their heads above the surface; Came to bear the harp of joyance, Hear the songs of the enchanter. Ahto, king of all the waters, Ancient king with beard of sea-grass, Raised his head above the billows, In a boat of water-lilies, Glided to the coast in silence, Listened to the wondrous singing, To the harp of Wainamoinen. These the words the sea-king uttered: "Never have I heard such playing, Never heard such strains of music, Never since the sea was fashioned, As the songs of this enchanter, This sweet singer, Wainamoinen." Satko's daughters from the blue-deep, Sisters of the wave-washed ledges, On the colored strands were sitting, Smoothing out their sea-green tresses With the combs of molten silver, With their silver-handled brushes, Brushes forged with golden bristles. When they hear the magic playing, Hear the harp of Wainamoinen, Fall their brushes on the billows, Fall their combs with silver handles To the bottom of the waters, Unadorned their heads remaining, And uncombed their sea-green tresses. Came the hostess of the waters, Ancient hostess robed in flowers, Rising from her deep sea-castle, Swimming to the shore in wonder, Listened to the minstrel's playing, To the harp of Wainamoinen. As the magic tones re-echoed, As the singer's song out-circled, Sank the hostess into slumber, On the rocks of many colors, On her watery couch of joyance, Deep the sleep that settled o'er her.

beneath the birch trees and raven filled gray skies

Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Played one day and then a second, Played the third from morn till even. There was neither man nor hero, Neither ancient dame, nor maiden, Not in Metsola a daughter, Whom he did not touch to weeping; Wept the young, and wept the aged, Wept the mothers, wept the daughters Wept the warriors and heroes At the music of his playing, At the songs of the magician. Wainamoinen's tears came flowing, Welling from the master's eyelids, Pearly tear-drops coursing downward, Larger than the whortle-berries, Finer than the pearls of ocean, Smoother than the eggs of moor-hens, Brighter than the eyes of swallows. From his eves the tear-drops started, Flowed adown his furrowed visage, Falling from his beard in streamlets, Trickled on his heaving bosom, Streaming o'er his golden girdle, Coursing to his garment's border, Then beneath his shoes of ermine, Flowing on, and flowing ever, Part to earth for her possession, Part to water for her portion. As the tear-drops fall and mingle, Form they streamlets from the eyelids Of the minstrel, Wainamoinen, To the blue-mere's sandy margin, To the deeps of crystal waters, Lost among the reeds and rushes. Spake at last the ancient minstrel: "Is there one in all this concourse, One in all this vast assembly That can gather up my tear-drops From the deep, pellucid waters?" Thus the younger heroes answered, Answered thus the bearded seniors: "There is none in all this concourse, None in all this vast assembly, That can gather up thy tear-drops From the deep, pellucid waters." Spake again wise Wainamoinen: "He that gathers up my tear-drops From the deeps of crystal waters Shall receive a beauteous plumage." Came a raven, flying, croaking, And the minstrel thus addressed him: "Bring, O raven, bring my tear-drops From the crystal lake's abysses; I will give thee beauteous plumage, Recompense for golden service." But the raven failed his master. Came a duck upon the waters, And the hero thus addressed him: "Bring O water-bird, my tear-drops; Often thou dost dive the deep-sea, Sink thy bill upon the bottom Of the waters thou dost travel; Dive again my tears to gather, I will give thee beauteous plumage, Recompense for golden service." Thereupon the duck departed, Hither, thither, swam, and circled, Dived beneath the foam and billow, Gathered Wainamoinen's tear-drops From the blue-sea's pebbly bottom, From the deep, pellucid waters; Brought them to the great magician, Beautifully formed and colored, Glistening in the silver sunshine, Glimmering in the golden moonlight, Many-colored as the rainbow, Fitting ornaments for heroes, Jewels for the maids of beauty. This the origin of sea-pearls, And the blue-duck's beauteous plumage.


[the dragon


the sea]

Wainamoinen, old and truthful, With the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, With the reckless son of Lempo, Handsome hero, Kaukomieli, On the sea's smooth plain departed, On the far-extending waters, To the village, cold and dreary, To the never-pleasant Northland, Where the heroes fall and perish. Ilmarinen led the rowers On one side the magic war-ship, And the reckless Lemminkainen Led the rowers on the other. Wainamoinen, old and trusty, Laid his hand upon the rudder, Steered his vessel o'er the waters, Through the foam and angry billows To Pohyola's place of landing, To the cylinders of copper, Where the war-ships lie at anchor. When they had arrived at Pohya, When their journey they had ended, On the land they rolled their vessel, On the copper-banded rollers, Straightway journeyed to the village, Hastened to the halls and hamlets Of the dismal Sariola. Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Thus addressed the stranger-heroes: Magic heroes of Wainola, What the tidings ye are bringing To the people of my village?" Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel. Gave this answer to the hostess: "All the hosts of Kalevala Are inquiring for the Sampo, Asking for the lid in colors; Hither have these heroes journeyed To divide the priceless treasure. Thus the hostess spake in answer: "No one would divide a partridge, Nor a squirrel, with three heroes; Wonderful the magic Sampo, Plenty does it bring to Northland; And the colored lid re-echoes From the copper-bearing mountains, From the stone-berg of Pohyola, To the joy of its possessors." Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Thus addressed the ancient Louhi: "If thou wilt not share the Sampo, Give to us an equal portion, We will take it to Wainola, With its lid of many colors, Take by force the hope of Pohya." Thereupon the Northland hostess Angry grew and sighed for vengeance; Called her people into council, Called the hosts of Sariola, Heroes with their trusted broadswords, To destroy old Wainamoinen With his people of the Northland. Wainamoinen, wise and ancient, Hastened to his harp of fish-bone, And began his magic playing; All of Pohya stopped and listened, Every warrior was silenced By the notes of the magician; Peaceful-minded grew the soldiers, All the maidens danced with pleasure, While the heroes fell to weeping, And the young men looked in wonder. Wainamoinen plays unceasing, Plays the maidens into slumber, Plays to sleep the young and aged, All of Northland sleeps and listens. Wise and wondrous Wainamoinen, The eternal bard and singer, Searches in his pouch of leather, Draws therefrom his slumber-arrows, Locks the eyelids of the sleepers, Of the heroes of Pohyola, Sings and charms to deeper slumber All the warriors of the Northland. Then the heroes of Wainola Hasten to obtain the Sampo, To procure the lid in colors From the copper-bearing mountains. From behind nine locks of copper, In the stone-berg of Pohyola. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Then began his wondrous singing, Sang in gentle tones of magic, At the entrance to the mountain, At the border of the stronghold; Trembled all the rocky portals, And the iron-banded pillars Fell and crumbled at his singing. Ilmarinen, magic blacksmith, Well anointed all the hinges, All the bars and locks anointed, And the bolts flew back by magic, All the gates unlocked in silence, Opened for the great magician. Spake the minstrel Wainamoinen: "O thou daring Lemminkainen, Friend of mine in times of trouble, Enter thou within the mountain, Bring away the wondrous Sampo, Bring away the lid in colors!" Quick the reckless Lemminkainen, Handsome hero, Kaukomieli, Ever ready for a venture, Hastens to the mountain-caverns, There to find the famous Sampo, There to get the lid in colors; Strides along with conscious footsteps, Thus himself he vainly praises: "Great am I and full of glory, Wonder-hero, son of Ukko, I will bring away the Sampo, Turn about the lid in colors, Turn it on its magic hinges!" Lemminkainen finds the wonder, Finds the Sampo in the mountain, Labors long with strength heroic, Tugs with might and main to turn it; Motionless remains the treasure, Deeper sinks the lid in colors, For the roots have grown about it, Grown nine fathoms deep in sand-earth. Lived a mighty ox in Northland, Powerful in bone and sinew, Beautiful in form and color, Horns the length of seven fathoms, Mouth and eyes of wondrous beauty. Lemminkainen, reckless hero, Harnesses the ox in pasture, Takes the master-plow of Pohya, Plows the roots about the Sampo, Plows around the lid in colors, And the sacred Sampo loosens, Falls the colored lid in silence. Straightway ancient Wainamoinen Brings the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Brings the daring Lemminkainen, Lastly brings the magic Sampo, From the stone-berg of Pohyola, From the copper-bearing mountain, Hides it in his waiting vessel, In the war-ship of Wainola.

Beneath the wintry sun, the Oaken trees of your forest

Wainamoinen called his people, Called his crew of men and maidens, Called together all his heroes, Rolled his vessel to the water, Into billowy deeps and dangers. Spake the blacksmith, Ilmarinen: "Whither shall we take the Sampo, Whither take the lid in colors, From the stone-berg of Pohyola, From this evil spot of Northland?" Wainamoinen, wise and faithful, Gave this answer to the question: "Thither shall we take the Sampo, Thither take the lid in colors, To the fog-point on the waters, To the island forest-covered; There the treasure may be hidden, May remain in peace for ages, Free from trouble, free from danger, Where the sword will not molest it." Then the minstrel, Wainamoinen, Joyful, left the Pohya borders, Homeward sailed, and happy-hearted, Spake these measures on departing: "Turn, O man-of-war, from Pohya, Turn thy back upon the strangers, Turn thou to my distant country! Rock, O winds, my magic vessel, Homeward drive my ship, O billows, Lend the rowers your assistance, Give the oarsmen easy labor, On this vast expanse of waters! Give me of thine oars, O Ahto, Lend thine aid, O King of sea-waves, Guide as with thy helm in safety, Lay thy hand upon the rudder, And direct our war-ship homeward; Let the hooks of metal rattle O'er the surging of the billows, On the white-capped waves' commotion." Then the master, Wainamoinen, Guided home his willing vessel; And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, With the lively Lemminkainen, Led the mighty host of rowers, And the war-ship glided homeward O'er the sea's unruffled surface, O'er the mighty waste of waters. Spake the reckless Lemminkainen: "Once before I rode these billows, There were viands for the heroes, There was singing for the maidens; But to-day I hear no singing, Hear no songs upon the vessel, Hear no music on the waters." Wainamoinen, wise and ancient, Answered thus wild Lemminkainen: "Let none sing upon the blue-sea, On the waters, no rejoicing; Singing would prolong our journey, Songs disturb the host of rowers; Soon will die the silver sunlight, Darkness soon will overtake us, On this evil waste of waters, On this blue-sea, smooth and level." These the words of Lemminkainen: "Time will fly on equal pinions Whether we have songs or silence; Soon will disappear the daylight, And the night as quickly follow, Whether we be sad or joyous." Wainamoinen, the magician, O'er the blue backs of the billows, Steered one day, and then a second, Steered the third from morn till even, When the wizard, Lemminkainen, Once again addressed the master: "Why wilt thou, O famous minstrel, Sing no longer for thy people, Since the Sampo thou hast captured, Captured too the lid in colors?" These the words of Wainamoinen: "'Tis not well to sing too early! Time enough for songs of joyance When we see our home-land mansions, When our journeyings have ended!" Spake the reckless Lemminkainen: "At the helm, if I were sitting, I would sing at morn and evening, Though my voice has little sweetness; Since thy songs are not forthcoming Listen to my wondrous singing!" Thereupon wild Lemminkainen, Handsome hero, Kaukomieli, Raised his voice above the waters, O'er the sea his song resounded; But his measures were discordant, And his notes were harsh and frightful. Sang the wizard, Lemminkainen, Screeched the reckless Kaukomieli, Till the mighty war-ship trembled; Far and wide was heard his singing, Heard his songs upon the waters, Heard within the seventh village, Heard beyond the seven oceans. Sat a crane within the rushes, On a hillock clothed in verdure, And the crane his toes was counting; Suddenly he heard the singing Of the wizard, Lemminkainen; And the bird was justly frightened At the songs of the magician. Then with horrid voice, and screeching, Flew the crane across the broad-sea To the lakes of Sariola, O'er Pohyola's hills and hamlets, Screeching, screaming, over Northland, Till the people of the darkness Were awakened from their slumbers. Louhi hastens to her hurdles, Hastens to her droves of cattle, Hastens also to her garners, Counts her herds, inspects her store-house; Undisturbed she finds her treasures. Quick she journeys to the entrance To the copper-bearing mountain, Speaks these words as she approaches: "Woe is me, my life hard-fated, Woe to Louhi, broken-hearted! Here the tracks of the destroyers, All my locks and bolts are broken By the hands of cruel strangers! Broken are my iron hinges, Open stand the mountain-portals Leading to the Northland-treasure. Has Pohyola lost her Sampo?" Then she hastened to the chambers Where the Sampo had been grinding; But she found the chambers empty, Lid and Sampo gone to others, From the stone-berg of Pohyola, From behind nine locks of copper, In the copper-bearing mountain. Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Angry grew and cried for vengeance; As she found her fame departing, Found her-strength fast disappearing, Thus addressed the sea-fog virgin: "Daughter of the morning-vapors, Sift thy fogs from distant cloud-land, Sift the thick air from the heavens, Sift thy vapors from the ether, On the blue-back of the broad-sea, On the far extending waters, That the ancient Wainamoinen, Friend of ocean-wave and billow, May not baffle his pursuers! "Should this prayer prove unavailing, Iku-Turso, son of Old-age, Raise thy head above the billows, And destroy Wainola's heroes, Sink them to thy deep sea-castles, There devour them at thy pleasure; Bring thou back the golden Sampo To the people of Pohyola! "Should these words be ineffective, Ukko, mightiest of rulers, Golden king beyond the welkin, Sitting on a throne of silver, Fill thy skies with heavy storm-clouds, Call thy fleetest winds about thee, Send them o'er the seven broad-seas, There to find the fleeing vessel, That the ancient Wainamoinen May not baffle his pursuers!" Quick the virgin of the vapors Breathed a fog upon the waters, Made it settle on the war-ship Of the heroes of the Northland, Held the minstrel, Wainamoinen, Anchored in the fog and darkness; Bound him one day, then a second, Then a third till dawn of morning, In the middle of the blue-sea, Whence he could not flee in safety From the wrath of his pursuers. When the third night had departed, Resting in the sea, and helpless, Wainamoinen spake as follows, "Not a man of strength and courage, Not the weakest of the heroes, Who upon the sea will suffer, Sink and perish in the vapors, Perish in the fog and darkness!" With his sword he smote the billows, From his magic blade flowed honey; Quick the vapor breaks, and rises, Leaves the waters clear for rowing; Far extend the sky and waters, Large the ring of the horizon, And the troubled sea enlarges. Time had journeyed little distance, Scarce a moment had passed over, When they heard a mighty roaring, Heard a roaring and a rushing Near the border of the vessel, Where the foam was shooting skyward O'er the boat of Wainamoinen. Straightway youthful Ilmarinen Sank in gravest apprehension, From his cheeks the blood departed; Pulled his cap down o'er his forehead, Shook and trembled with emotion. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Casts his eyes upon the waters Near the broad rim of his war-ship; There perceives an ocean-wonder With his head above the sea-foam. Wainamoinen, brave and mighty, Seizes quick the water-monster, Lifts him by his ears and questions: "Iku-Turso, son of Old-age, Why art rising from the blue-sea? Wherefore dost thou leave thy castle, Show thyself to mighty heroes, To the heroes of Wainola?" Iku-Turso, son of Old-age, Ocean monster, manifested Neither pleasure, nor displeasure, Was not in the least affrighted, Did not give the hero answer. Whereupon the ancient minstrel, Asked the second time the monster, Urgently inquired a third time: "Iku-Turso, son of Old-age, Why art rising from the waters, Wherefore dost thou leave the blue-sea? Iku-Turso gave this answer: For this cause I left my castle Underneath the rolling billows: Came I here with the intention To destroy the Kalew-heroes, And return the magic Sampo To the people of Pohyola. If thou wilt restore my freedom, Spare my life, from pain and sorrow, I will quick retrace my journey, Nevermore to show my visage To the people of Wainola, Never while the moonlight glimmers On the hills of Kalevala!" Then the singer, Wainamoinen, Freed the monster, Iku-Turso, Sent him to his deep sea-castles, Spake these words to him departing: "Iku-Turso, son of Old-age, Nevermore arise from ocean, Nevermore let Northland-heroes See thy face above the waters I Nevermore has Iku-Turso Risen to the ocean-level; Never since have Northland sailors Seen the head of this sea-monster. Wainamoinen, old and truthful, Onward rowed his goodly vessel, Journeyed but a little distance, Scarce a moment had passed over, When the King of all creators, Mighty Ukko of the heavens, Made the winds blow full of power, Made the storms arise in fury, Made them rage upon the waters. From the west the winds came roaring, From the north-east came in anger, Winds came howling from the south-west, Came the winds from all directions, In their fury, rolling, roaring, Tearing branches from the lindens, Hurling needles from the pine-trees, Blowing flowers from the heather, Grasses blowing from the meadow, Tearing up the very bottom Of the deep and boundless blue-sea. Roared the winds and lashed the waters Till the waves were white with fury; Tossed the war-ship high in ether, Tossed away the harp of fish-bone, Magic harp of Wainamoinen, To the joy of King Wellamo, To the pleasure of his people, To the happiness of Ahto, Ahto, rising from his caverns, On the floods beheld his people Carry off the harp of magic To their home below the billows. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Heavy-hearted, spake these measures: "I have lost what I created, I have lost the harp of joyance; Now my strength has gone to others, All my pleasure too departed, All my hope and comfort vanished! Nevermore the harp of fish-bone Will enchant the hosts of Suomi!" Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Sorrow-laden, spake as follows: "Woe is me, my life hard-fated! Would that I had never journeyed On these waters filled with dangers, On the rolling waste before me, In this war-ship false and feeble. Winds and storms have I encountered, Wretched days of toil and trouble, I have witnessed in the Northland; Never have I met such dangers On the land, nor on the ocean, Never in my hero life-time!" Then the ancient Wainamoinen Spake and these the words he uttered: "Weep no more, my goodly comrades, In my bark let no one murmur; Weeping cannot mend disaster, Tears can never still misfortune, Mourning cannot save from evil. "Sea, command thy warring forces, Bid thy children cease their fury! Ahto, still thy surging billows! Sink, Wellamo, to thy slumber, That our boat may move in safety. Rise, ye storm-winds, to your kingdoms, Lift your heads above the waters, To the regions of your kindred, To your people and dominions; Cut the trees within the forest, Bend the lindens of the valley, Let our vessel sail in safety!" Then the reckless Lemminkainen, Handsome wizard, Kaukomieli, Spake these words in supplication: "Come, O eagle, Turyalander, Bring three feathers from thy pinions, Three, O raven, three, O eagle, To protect this bark from evil!" All the heroes of Wainola Call their forces to the rescue, And repair the sinking vessel. By the aid of master-magic, Wainamoinen saved his war-ship, Saved his people from destruction, Well repaired his ship to battle With the roughest seas of Northland; Steers his mighty boat in safety Through the perils of the whirlpool, Through the watery deeps and dangers.

In these waters



Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Called her many tribes together, Gave the archers bows and arrows, Gave her brave men spears and broadswords; Fitted out her mightiest war-ship, In the vessel placed her army, With their swords a hundred heroes, With their bows a thousand archers; Quick erected masts and sail-yards, On the masts her sails of linen Hanging like the clouds of heaven, Like the white-clouds in the ether, Sailed across the seas of Pohya, To re-take the wondrous Sampo From the heroes of Wainola. Wainamoinen, old and faithful, Sailed across the deep, blue waters, Spake these words to Lemminkainen: "O thou daring son of Lempo, Best of all my friends and heroes, Mount the highest of the topmasts, Look before you into ether, Look behind you at the heavens, Well examine the horizon, Whether clear or filled with trouble." Climbed the daring Lemminkainen, Ever ready for a venture, To the highest of the mastheads; Looked he eastward, also westward, Looked he northward, also southward, Then addressed wise Wainamoinen. "Clear the sky appears before me, But behind a dark horizon; In the north a cloud is rising, And a longer cloud at north-west." Wainamoinen thus made answer: Art thou speaking truth or fiction? I am fearful that the war-ships Of Pohyola are pursuing; Look again with keener vision." Thereupon wild Lemminkainen Looked again and spake as follows: "In the distance seems a forest, In the south appears an island, Aspen-groves with falcons laden, Alders laden with the wood-grouse." Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: "Surely thou art speaking falsehood; 'Tis no forest in the distance, Neither aspen, birch, nor alders, Laden with the grouse, or falcon; I am fearful that Pohyola Follows with her magic armies; Look again with keener vision." Then the daring Lemminkainen Looked the third time from the topmast, Spake and these the words be uttered: "From the north a boat pursues us, Driven by a hundred rowers, Carrying a thousand heroes!" Knew at last old Wainamoinen, Knew the truth of his inquiry, Thus addressed his fleeing people: "Row, O blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Row, O mighty Lemminkainen, Row, all ye my noble oarsmen, That our boat may skim the waters, May escape from our pursuers!" Rowed the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Rowed the mighty Lemminkainen, With them rowed the other heroes; Heavily groaned the helm of birch-wood, Loudly rattled all the row-locks; All the vessel shook and trembled, Like a cataract it thundered As it plowed the waste of waters, Tossing sea-foam to the heavens. Strongly rowed Wainola's forces, Strongly were their arms united; But the distance did not widen Twixt the boat and their pursuers. Quick the hero, Wainamoinen, Saw misfortune hanging over, Saw destruction in the distance Heavy-hearted, long reflecting, Trouble-laden, spake as follows: "Only is there one salvation, Know one miracle for safety!" Then he grasped his box of tinder, From the box he took a flint-stone, Of the tinder took some fragments, Cast the fragments on the waters, Spake these words of master-magic.

Oh, they came with the morning mist over the waters - Photography by Mike Koontz

"Let from these arise a mountain From the bottom of the deep-sea, Let a rock arise in water, That the war-ship of Pohyola, With her thousand men and heroes, May be wrecked upon the summit, By the aid of surging billows." Instantly a reef arises, In the sea springs up a mountain, Eastward, westward, through the waters. Came the war-ship of the Northland, Through the floods the boat came steering, Sailed against the mountain-ledges, Fastened on the rocks in water, Wrecked upon the Mount of Magic. In the deep-sea fell the topmasts, Fell the sails upon the billows, Carried by the winds and waters O'er the waves of toil and trouble. Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Tries to free her sinking vessel, Tries to rescue from destruction; But she cannot raise the war-ship, Firmly fixed upon the mountain; Shattered are the ribs and rudder, Ruined is the ship of Pohya. Then the hostess of the Northland, Much disheartened, spake as follows: "Where the force, in earth or heaven, That will help a soul in trouble?" Quick she changes form and feature, Makes herself another body; Takes five sharpened scythes of iron, Also takes five goodly sickles, Shapes them into eagle-talons; Takes the body of the vessel, Makes the frame-work of an eagle; Takes the vessel's ribs and flooring Makes them into wings and breastplate; For the tail she shapes the rudder; In the wings she plants a thousand Seniors with their bows and arrows; Sets a thousand magic heroes In the body, armed with broadswords In the tail a hundred archers, With their deadly spears and cross-bows, Thus the bird is hero-feathered. Quick she spreads her mighty pinions, Rises as a monster-eagle, Flies on high, and soars, and circles With one wing she sweeps the heavens, While the other sweeps the waters. Spake the hero's ocean-mother: "O thou ancient Wainamoinen, Turn thy vision to the north-east, Cast thine eyes upon the sunrise, Look behind thy fleeing vessel, See the eagle of misfortune!" Wainamoinen turned as bidden, Turned his vision to the north-east, Cast his eyes upon the sunrise, There beheld the Northland-hostess, Wicked witch of Sariola, Flying as a monster-eagle, Swooping on his mighty war-ship; Flies and perches on the topmast, On the sail-yards firmly settles; Nearly overturns the vessel Of the heroes of Wainola, Underneath the weight of envy. Then the hero, Ilmarinen, Turned to Ukko as his refuge, Thus entreated his Creator: "Ukko, thou O God in heaven, Thou Creator full of mercy, Guard us from impending danger, That thy children may not perish, May not meet with fell destruction. Hither bring thy magic fire-cloak, That thy people, thus protected, May resist Pohyola's forces, Well may fight against the hostess Of the dismal Sariola, May not fall before her weapons, May not in the deep-sea perish!" Then the ancient Wainamoinen Thus addressed the ancient Louhi: "O thou hostess of Pohyola, Wilt thou now divide the Sampo, On the fog-point in the water, On the island forest-covered? Thus the Northland hostess answered: "I will not divide the Sampo, Not with thee, thou evil wizard, Not with wicked Wainamoinen!" Quick the mighty eagle, Louhi, Swoops upon the lid in colors, Grasps the Sampo in her talons; But the daring Lemminkainen Straightway draws his blade of battle, Draws his broadsword from his girdle, Cleaves the talons of the eagle, One toe only is uninjured, Speaks these magic words of conquest: "Down, ye spears, and down, ye broadswords, Down, ye thousand witless heroes, Down, ye feathered hosts of Louhi!" Spake the hostess of Pohyola, Calling, screeching, from the sail-yards: "O thou faithless Lemminkainen, Wicked wizard, Kaukomieli, To deceive thy trusting mother! Thou didst give to her thy promise, Not to go to war for ages, Not to war for sixty summers, Though desire for gold impels thee, Though thou wishest gold and silver! Wainamoinen, ancient hero, The eternal wisdom-singer, Thinking he had met destruction, Snatched the rudder from the waters, With it smote the monster-eagle, Smote the eagle's iron talons, Smote her countless feathered heroes. From her breast her hosts descended, Spearmen fell upon the billows, From the wings descend a thousand, From the tail, a hundred archers. Swoops again the bird of Pohya To the bottom of the vessel, Like the hawk from birch or aspen, Like the falcon from the linden; Grasps the Sampo with one talon, Drags the treasure to the waters, Drops the magic lid in colors From the red rim of the war-ship To the bottom of the deep-sea, Where the Sampo breaks in pieces, Scatters through the Alue-waters, In the mighty deeps for ages, To increase the ocean's treasures, Treasures for the hosts of Ahto. Nevermore will there be wanting Richness for the Ahto-nation, Never while the moonlight brightens On the waters of the Northland. Many fragments of the Sampo Floated on the purple waters, On the waters deep and boundless, Rocked by winds and waves of Suomi, Carried by the rolling billows To the sea-sides of Wainola. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Saw the fragments of the treasure Floating on the billows landward, Fragments of the lid in colors, Much rejoicing, spake as follows: "Thence will come the sprouting seed-grain, The beginning of good fortune, The unending of resources, From the plowing and the sowing, From the glimmer of the moonlight, From the splendor of the sunshine, On the fertile plains of Suomi, On the meads of Kalevala." Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Thus addressed old Wainamoinen: "Know I other mighty measures, Know I means that are efficient, And against thy golden moonlight, And the splendor of thy sunshine, And thy plowing, and thy reaping; In the rocks I'll sink the moonbeams, Hide the sun within the mountain, Let the frost destroy thy sowings, Freeze the crops on all thy corn-fields; Iron-hail I'll send from heaven, On the richness of thine acres, On the barley of thy planting; I will drive the bear from forests, Send thee Otso from the thickets, That he may destroy thy cattle, May annihilate thy sheep-folds, May destroy thy steeds at pasture. I will send thee nine diseases, Each more fatal than the other, That will sicken all thy people, Make thy children sink and perish, Nevermore to visit Northland, Never while the moonlight glimmers On the plains of Kalevala!" Thus the ancient bard made answer: "Not a Laplander can banish Wainamoinen and his people; Never can a Turyalander Drive my tribes from Kalevala; God alone has power to banish, God controls the fate of nations, Never trusts the arms of evil, Never gives His strength to others. As I trust in my Creator, Call upon benignant Ukko, He will guard my crops from danger Drive the Frost-fiend from my corn-fields, Drive great Otso to his caverns. "Wicked Louhi of Pohyola, Thou canst banish evil-doers, In the rocks canst hide the wicked, In thy mountains lock the guilty; Thou canst never hide the moonlight, Never bide the silver sunshine, In the caverns of thy kingdom. Freeze the crops of thine own planting, Freeze the barley of thy sowing, Send thine iron-hail from heaven To destroy the Lapland corn-fields, To annihilate thy people, To destroy the hosts of Pohya; Send great Otso from the heather, Send the sharp-tooth from the forest, To the fields of Sariola, On the herds and flocks of Louhi!" Thus the wicked hostess answered: "All my power has departed, All my strength has gone to others, All my hope is in the deep-sea; In the waters lies my Sampo!" Then the hostess of Pohyola Home departed, weeping, wailing, To the land of cold and darkness; Only took some worthless fragments Of the Sampo to her people; Carried she the lid to Pohya, In the blue-sea left the handle; Hence the poverty of Northland, And the famines of Pohyola. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Hastened to the broad-sea's margin, Stepped upon the shore in joyance; Found there fragments of the Sampo, Fragments of the lid in colors, On the borders of the waters, On the curving sands and sea-sides; Gathered well the Sampo-relics From the waters near the fog-point, On the island forest-covered. Spake the ancient Wainamoinen, Spake these words in supplication: "Grant, O Ukko, our Creator, Grant to us, thy needful children, Peace, and happiness, and plenty, That our lives may be successful, That our days may end in honor, On the vales and hills of Suomi, On the prairies of Wainola, In the homes of Kalevala! "Ukko, wise and good Creator, Ukko, God of love and mercy, Shelter and protect thy people From the evil-minded heroes, From the wiles of wicked women, That our country's plagues may leave us, That thy faithful tribes may prosper. Be our friend and strong protector, Be the helper of thy children, In the night a roof above them, In the day a shield around them, That the sunshine may not vanish, That the moonlight may not lessen, That the killing frosts may leave them, And destructive hail pass over. Build a metal wall around us, From the valleys to the heavens; Build of stone a mighty fortress On the borders of Wainola, Where thy people live and labor, As their dwelling-place forever, Sure protection to thy people, Where the wicked may not enter, Nor the thieves break through and pilfer, Never while the moonlight glistens, And the Sun brings golden blessings To the plains of Kalevala."

Here me roar

[for life


one day end]

Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Long reflecting, sang these measures: "It is now the time befitting To awaken joy and gladness, Time for me to touch the harp-strings, Time to sing the songs primeval, In these spacious halls and mansions, In these homes of Kalevala; But, alas! my harp lies hidden, Sunk upon the deep-sea's bottom, To the salmon's hiding-places, To the dwellings of the whiting, To the people of Wellamo, Where the Northland-pike assemble. Nevermore will I regain it, Ahto never will return it, Joy and music gone forever! "O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Forge for me a rake of iron, Thickly set the teeth of copper, Many fathoms long the handle; Make a rake to search the waters, Search the broad-sea to the bottom, Rake the weeds and reeds together, Rake them to the curving sea-shore, That I may regain my treasure, May regain my harp of fish-bow From the whiting's place of resting, From the caverns of the salmon, From the castles of Wellamo." Thereupon young Ilmarinen, The eternal metal-worker, Forges well a rake of iron, Teeth in length a hundred fathoms, And a thousand long the handle, Thickly sets the teeth of copper. Straightway ancient Wainamoinen Takes the rake of magic metals, Travels but a little distance, To the cylinders of oak-wood, To the copper-banded rollers, Where he finds two ships awaiting, One was new, the other ancient. Wainamoinen, old and faithful, Thus addressed the new-made vessel: "Go, thou boat of master-magic, Hasten to the willing waters, Speed away upon the blue-sea, And without the hand to move thee; Let my will impel thee seaward." Quick the boat rolled to the billows On the cylinders of oak-wood, Quick descended to the waters, Willingly obeyed his master. Wainamoinen, the magician, Then began to rake the sea-beds, Raked up all the water-flowers, Bits of broken reeds and rushes, Deep-sea shells and colored pebbles, Did not find his harp of fish-bone, Lost forever to Wainola! Thereupon the ancient minstrel Left the waters, homeward hastened, Cap pulled clown upon his forehead, Sang this song with sorrow laden: "Nevermore shall I awaken With my harp-strings, joy and gladness! Nevermore will Wainamoinen Charm the people of the Northland With the harp of his creation! Nevermore my songs will echo O'er the hills of Kalevala!" Thereupon the ancient singer Went lamenting through the forest, Wandered through the sighing pine-woods, Heard the wailing of a birch-tree, Heard a juniper complaining; Drawing nearer, waits and listens, Thus the birch-tree he addresses:

before the wild and the snow, there is your autumn

"Wherefore, brother, art thou weeping, Merry birch enrobed in silver, Silver-leaved and silver-tasselled? Art thou shedding tears of sorrow, Since thou art not led to battle, Not enforced to war with wizards? Wisely does the birch make answer: "This the language of the many, Others speak as thou, unjustly, That I only live in pleasure, That my silver leaves and tassels Only whisper my rejoicings; That I have no cares, no sorrows, That I have no hours unhappy, Knowing neither pain nor trouble. I am weeping for my smallness, Am lamenting for my weakness, Have no sympathy, no pity, Stand here motionless for ages, Stand alone in fen and forest, In these woodlands vast and joyless. Others hope for coming summers, For the beauties of the spring-time; I, alas! a helpless birch-tree, Dread the changing of the seasons, I must give my bark to, others, Lose my leaves and silken tassels. Men come the Suomi children, Peel my bark and drink my life-blood: Wicked shepherds in the summer, Come and steal my belt of silver, Of my bark make berry-baskets, Dishes make, and cups for drinking. Oftentimes the Northland maidens Cut my tender limbs for birch-brooms,' Bind my twigs and silver tassels Into brooms to sweep their cabins; Often have the Northland heroes Chopped me into chips for burning; Three times in the summer season, In the pleasant days of spring-time, Foresters have ground their axes On my silver trunk and branches, Robbed me of my life for ages; This my spring-time joy and pleasure, This my happiness in summer, And my winter days no better! When I think of former troubles, Sorrow settles on my visage, And my face grows white with anguish; Often do the winds of winter And the hoar-frost bring me sadness, Blast my tender leaves and tassels, Bear my foliage to others, Rob me of my silver raiment, Leave me naked on the mountain, Lone, and helpless, and disheartened!" Spake the good, old Wainamoinen: "Weep no longer, sacred birch-tree, Mourn no more, my friend and brother, Thou shalt have a better fortune; I will turn thy grief to joyance, Make thee laugh and sing with gladness." Then the ancient Wainamoinen Made a harp from sacred birch-wood, Fashioned in the days of summer, Beautiful the harp of magic, By the master's hand created On the fog-point in the Big-Sea, On the island forest-covered, Fashioned from the birch the archings, And the frame-work from the aspen. These the words of the magician: "All the archings are completed, And the frame is fitly finished; Whence the hooks and pins for tuning, That the harp may sing in concord?" Near the way-side grew an oak-tree, Skyward grew with equal branches, On each twig an acorn growing, Golden balls upon each acorn, On each ball a singing cuckoo. As each cuckoo's call resounded, Five the notes of song that issued From the songster's throat of joyance; From each throat came liquid music, Gold and silver for the master, Flowing to the hills and hillocks, To the silvery vales and mountains; Thence he took the merry harp-pins, That the harp might play in concord. Spake again wise Wainamoinen: "I the pins have well completed, Still the harp is yet unfinished; Now I need five strings for playing, Where shall I procure the harp-strings?" Then the ancient bard and minstrel Journeyed through the fen and forest. On a hillock sat a maiden, Sat a virgin of the valley; And the maiden was not weeping, Joyful was the sylvan daughter, Singing with the woodland songsters, That the eventide might hasten, In the hope that her beloved Would the sooner sit beside her. Wainamoinen, old and trusted, Hastened, tripping to the virgin, Asked her for her golden ringleta, These the words of the magician. "Give me, maiden, of thy tresses, Give to me thy golden ringlets; I will weave them into harp-strings, To the joy of Wainamoinen, To the pleasure of his people." Thereupon the forest-maiden Gave the singer of her tresses, Gave him of her golden ringlets, And of these he made the harp-strings. Sources of eternal pleasure To the people of Wainola. Thus the sacred harp is finished, And the minstrel, Wainamoinen, Sits upon the rock of joyance, Takes the harp within his fingers, Turns the arch up, looking skyward; With his knee the arch supporting, Sets the strings in tuneful order, Runs his fingers o'er the harp-strings, And the notes of pleasure follow. Straightway ancient Wainamoinen, The eternal wisdom-singer, Plays upon his harp of birch-wood. Far away is heard the music, Wide the harp of joy re-echoes; Mountains dance and valleys listen, Flinty rocks are tom asunder, Stones are hurled upon the waters, Pebbles swim upon the Big-Sea, Pines and lindens laugh with pleasure, Alders skip about the heather, And the aspen sways in concord. All the daughters of Wainola Straightway leave their shining needles, Hasten forward like the current, Speed along like rapid rivers, That they may enjoy and wonder. Laugh the younger men and maidens, Happy-hearted are the matrons Flying swift to bear the playing, To enjoy the common pleasure, Hear the harp of Wainamoinen. Aged men and bearded seniors, Gray-haired mothers with their daughters Stop in wonderment and listen. Creeps the babe in full enjoyment As he hears the magic singing, Hears the harp of Wainamoinen. All of Northland stops in wonder, Speaks in unison these measures: "Never have we heard such playing, Never heard such strains of music, Never since the earth was fashioned, As the songs of this magician, This sweet singer, Wainamoinen!" Far and wide the sweet tones echo, Ring throughout the seven hamlets, O'er the seven islands echo; Every creature of the Northland Hastens forth to look and listen, Listen to the songs of gladness, To the harp of Wainamoinen. All the beasts that haunt the woodlands Fall upon their knees and wonder At the playing of the minstrel, At his miracles of concord. All the songsters of the forests Perch upon the trembling branches, Singing to the wondrous playing Of the harp of Wainamoinen. All the dwellers of the waters Leave their beds, and eaves, and grottoes, Swim against the shore and listen To the playing of the minstrel, To the harp of Wainamoinen. All the little things in nature, Rise from earth, and fall from ether, Come and listen to the music, To the notes of the enchanter, To the songs of the magician, To the harp of Wainamoinen. Plays the singer of the Northland, Plays in miracles of sweetness, Plays one day, and then a second, Plays the third from morn till even; Plays within the halls and cabins, In the dwellings of his people, Till the floors and ceilings echo, Till resound the roofs of pine-wood, Till the windows speak and tremble, Till the portals echo joyance, And the hearth-stones sing in pleasure. As he journeys through the forest, As he wanders through the woodlands, Pine and sorb-tree bid him welcome, Birch and willow bend obeisance, Beech and aspen bow submission; And the linden waves her branches To the measure of his playing, To the notes of the magician. As the minstrel plays and wanders, Sings upon the mead and heather, Glen and hill his songs re-echo, Ferns and flowers laugh in pleasure, And the shrubs attune their voices To the music of the harp-strings, To the songs of Wainamoinen.

my sister



the wilderness]

Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Heard the word in Sariola, Heard the Dews with ears of envy, That Wainola lives and prospers, That Osmoinen's wealth increases, Through the ruins of the Sampo, Ruins of the lid in colors. Thereupon her wrath she kindled, Well considered, long reflected, How she might prepare destruction For the people of Wainola, For the tribes of Kalevala. With this prayer she turns to Ukko, Thus entreats the god of thunder: "Ukko, thou who art in heaven, Help me slay Wainola's people With thine iron-hail of justice, With thine arrows tipped with lightning, Or from sickness let them perish, Let them die the death deserving; Let the men die in the forest, And the women in the hurdles!" The blind daughter of Tuoni, Old and wicked witch, Lowyatar, Worst of all the Death-land women, Ugliest of Mana's children, Source of all the host of evils, All the ills and plagues of Northland, Black in heart, and soul, and visage, Evil genius of Lappala, Made her couch along the wayside, On the fields of sin and sorrow; Turned her back upon the East-wind, To the source of stormy weather, To the chilling winds of morning. When the winds arose at evening, Heavy-laden grew Lowyatar, Through the east-wind's impregnation, On the sand-plains, vast and barren. Long she bore her weight of trouble, Many morns she suffered anguish, Till at last she leaves the desert, Makes her couch within the forest, On a rock upon the mountain; Labors long to leave her burden By the mountain-springs and fountains, By the crystal waters flowing, By the sacred stream and whirlpool, By the cataract and fire-stream; But her burden does not lighten. Blind Lowyatar, old and ugly, Knew not where to look for succor, How to lose her weight of sorrow, Where to lay her evil children. Spake the Highest from the heavens, These, the words of mighty Ukko: "Is a triangle in Swamp-field, Near the border of the ocean, In the never-pleasant Northland, In the dismal Sariola; Thither go and lay thy burden, In Pohyola leave thine offspring; There the Laplanders await thee, There will bid thy children welcome." Thereupon the blind Lowyatar, Blackest daughter of Tuoni, Mana's old and ugly maiden, Hastened on her journey northward, To the chambers of Pohyola, To the ancient halls of Louhi, There to lay her heavy burdens, There to leave her evil offspring. Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Old and toothless witch of Pohya, Takes Lowyatar to her mansion; Silently she leads the stranger To the bath-rooms of her chamber, Pours the foaming beer of barley, Lubricates the bolts and hinges, That their movements may be secret, Speaks these measures to Lowyatar: "Faithful daughter of Creation, Thou most beautiful of women, First and last of ancient mothers, Hasten on thy feet to ocean, To the ocean's centre hasten, Take the sea-foam from the waters, Take the honey of the mermaids, And anoint thy sacred members, That thy labors may be lightened. "Should all this be unavailing, Ukko, thou who art in heaven, Hasten hither, thou art needed, Come thou to thy child in trouble, Help the helpless and afflicted.

through the wild and snow, help the helpless

Take thy golden-colored sceptre, Charm away opposing forces, Strike the pillars of the stronghold, Open all resisting portals, That the great and small may wander From their ancient hiding-places, Through the courts and halls of freedom." Finally the blind Lowyatar, Wicked witch of Tuonela, Was delivered of her burden, Laid her offspring in the cradle, Underneath the golden covers. Thus at last were born nine children, In an evening of the summer, From Lowyatar, blind and ancient, Ugly daughter of Tuoni. Faithfully the virgin-mother Guards her children in affection, As an artist loves and nurses What his skillful hands have fashioned. Thus Lowyatar named her offspring, Colic, Pleurisy, and Fever, Ulcer, Plague, and dread Consumption, Gout, Sterility, and Cancer. And the worst of these nine children Blind Lowyatar quickly banished, Drove away as an enchanter, To bewitch the lowland people, To engender strife and envy. Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Banished all the other children To the fog-point in the ocean, To the island forest-covered; Banished all the fatal creatures, Gave these wicked sons of evil To the people of Wainola, To the youth of Kalevala, For the Kalew-tribe's destruction. Quick Wainola's maidens sicken, Young and aged, men and heroes, With the worst of all diseases, With diseases new and nameless; Sick and dying is Wainola. Thereupon old Wainamoinen, Wise and wonderful enchanter, Hastens to his people's rescue, Hastens to a war with Mana, To a conflict with Tuoni, To destroy the evil children Of the evil maid, Lowyatar. Wainamoinen heats the bath-rooms, Heats the blocks of healing-sandstone With the magic wood of Northland, Gathered by the sacred river; Water brings in covered buckets From the cataract and whirlpool; Brooms he brings enwrapped with ermine, Well the bath the healer cleanses, Softens well the brooms of birch-wood; Then a honey-heat be wakens, Fills the rooms with healing vapors, From the virtue of the pebbles Glowing in the heat of magic, Thus he speaks in supplication: "Come, O Ukko, to my rescue, God of mercy, lend thy presence, Give these vapor-baths new virtues, Grant to them the powers of healing, And restore my dying people; Drive away these fell diseases, Banish them to the unworthy, Let the holy sparks enkindle, Keep this heat in healing limits, That it may not harm thy children, May not injure the afflicted. When I pour the sacred waters On the heated blocks of sandstone, May the water turn to honey Laden with the balm of healing. Let the stream of magic virtues Ceaseless flow to all my children, From this bath enrolled in sea-moss, That the guiltless may not suffer, That my tribe-folk may not perish, Till the Master gives permission, Until Ukko sends his minions, Sends diseases of his choosing, To destroy my trusting people. Let the hostess of Pohyola, Wicked witch that sent these troubles, Suffer from a gnawing conscience, Suffer for her evil doings. Should the Master of Wainola Lose his magic skill and weaken, Should he prove of little service To deliver from misfortune, To deliver from these evils, Then may Ukko be our healer, Be our strength and wise Physician. "Omnipresent God of mercy, Thou who livest in the heavens, Hasten hither, thou art needed, Hasten to thine ailing children, To observe their cruel tortures, To dispel these fell diseases, Drive destruction from our borders. Bring with thee thy mighty fire-sword, Bring to me thy blade of lightning, That I may subdue these evils, That these monsters I may banish, Send these pains, and ills, and tortures, To the empire of Tuoni, To the kingdom of the east-winds, To the islands of the wicked, To the caverns of the demons, To the rocks within the mountains, To the hidden beds of iron, That the rocks may fall and sicken, And the beds of iron perish. Rocks and metals do not murmur At the hands of the invader. "Torture-daughter of Tuoni, Sitting on the mount of anguish, At the junction of three rivers, Turning rocks of pain and torture, Turn away these fell diseases Through the virtues of the blue-stone; Lead them to the water-channels, Sink them in the deeps of ocean, Where the winds can never find them, Where the sunlight never enters. "Should this prayer prove unavailing, O, Health-virgin, maid of beauty Come and heal my dying people, Still their agonies and anguish, Give them consciousness and comfort, Give them healthful rest and slumber; These diseases take and banish, Take them in thy copper vessel, To thy eaves within the mountains, To the summit of the Pain-rock, Hurl them to thy boiling caldrons. In the mountain is a touch-stone, Lucky-stone of ancient story, With a hole bored through the centre, Through this pour these pains and tortures, Wretched feelings, thoughts of evil, Human ailments, days unlucky, Tribulations, and misfortunes, That they may not rise at evening, May not see the light of morning." Ending thus, old Wainamoinen, The eternal, wise enchanter, Rubbed his sufferers with balsams, Rubbed the tissues, red and painful, With the balm of healing flowers, Balsams made of herbs enchanted, Sprinkled all with healing vapors, Spake these words in supplication. "Ukko, thou who art in heaven, God of justice, and of mercy, Send us from the east a rain-cloud, Send a dark cloud from the North-west, From the north let fall a third one, Send us mingled rain and honey, Balsam from the great Physician, To remove this plague of Northland. What I know of healing measures, Only comes from my Creator; Lend me, therefore, of thy wisdom, That I may relieve my people, Save them from the fell destroyer, If my hands should fall in virtue, Let the hands of Ukko follow, God alone can save from trouble. Come to us with thine enchantment, Speak the magic words of healing, That my people may not perish; Give to all alleviation From their sicknesses and sorrows; In the morning, in the evening, Let their wasting ailments vanish; Drive the Death-child from Wainola, Nevermore to visit Northland, Never in the course of ages, Never while the moonlight glimmers O'er the lakes of Kalevala." Wainamoinen, the enchanter, The eternal wisdom-singer, Thus expelled the nine diseases, Evil children or Lowyatar, Healed the tribes of Kalevala, Saved his people from destruction.





Came the tidings to Pohyola, To the village of the Northland, That Wainola had recovered From her troubles and misfortunes, From her sicknesses and sorrows. Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Toothless dame of Sariola, Envy-laden, spake these measures: "Know I other means of trouble, I have many more resources; I will drive the bear before me, From the heather and the mountain, Drive him from the fen and forest, Drive great Otso from the glen-wood On the cattle of Wainola, On the flocks of Kalevala." Thereupon the Northland hostess Drove the hungry bear of Pohya From his cavern to the meadows, To Wainola's plains and pastures. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, To his brother spake as follows: "O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Forge a spear from magic metals, Forge a lancet triple-pointed, Forge the handle out of copper, That I may destroy great Otso, Slay the mighty bear of Northland, That he may not eat my horses, Nor destroy my herds of cattle, Nor the flocks upon my pastures." Thereupon the skillful blacksmith Forged a spear from magic metals, Forged a lancet triple-pointed, Not the longest, nor the shortest, Forged the spear in wondrous beauty. On one side a bear was sitting, Sat a wolf upon the other, On the blade an elk lay sleeping, On the shaft a colt was running, Near the hilt a roebuck bounding. Snows had fallen from the heavens, Made the flocks as white as ermine Or the hare, in days of winter, And the minstrel sang these measures: "My desire impels me onward To the Metsola-dominions, To the homes of forest-maidens, To the courts of the white virgins; I will hasten to the forest, Labor with the woodland-forces. "Ruler of the Tapio-forests, Make of me a conquering hero, Help me clear these boundless woodlands. O Mielikki, forest-hostess, Tapio's wife, thou fair Tellervo, Call thy dogs and well enchain them, Set in readiness thy hunters, Let them wait within their kennels. "Otso, thou O Forest-apple, Bear of honey-paws and fur-robes, Learn that Wainamoinen follows, That the singer comes to meet thee; Hide thy claws within thy mittens, Let thy teeth remain in darkness, That they may not harm the minstrel, May be powerless in battle. Mighty Otso, much beloved, Honey-eater of the mountains, Settle on the rocks in slumber, On the turf and in thy caverns; Let the aspen wave above thee, Let the merry birch-tree rustle O'er thy head for thy protection. Rest in peace, thou much-loved Otso, Turn about within thy thickets, Like the partridge at her brooding, In the spring-time like the wild-goose." When the ancient Wainamoinen Heard his dog bark in the forest, Heard his hunter's call and echo, He addressed the words that follow: "Thought it was the cuckoo calling, Thought the pretty bird was singing; It was not the sacred cuckoo, Not the liquid notes of songsters, 'Twas my dog that called and murmured, 'Twas the echo of my hunter At the cavern-doors of Otso, On the border of the woodlands." Wainamoinen, old and trusty, Finds the mighty bear in waiting, Lifts in joy the golden covers, Well inspects his shining fur-robes; Lifts his honey-paws in wonder, Then addresses his Creator: "Be thou praised, O mighty Ukko, As thou givest me great Otso, Givest me the Forest-apple, Thanks be paid to thee unending."

From the sky, black eyes and white light

To the bear he spake these measures: "Otso, thou my well beloved, Honey-eater of the woodlands, Let not anger swell thy bosom; I have not the force to slay thee, Willingly thy life thou givest As a sacrifice to Northland. Thou hast from the tree descended, Glided from the aspen branches, Slippery the trunks in autumn, In the fog-days, smooth the branches. Golden friend of fen and forest, In thy fur-robes rich and beauteous, Pride of woodlands, famous Light-foot, Leave thy cold and cheerless dwelling, Leave thy home within the alders, Leave thy couch among the willows, Hasten in thy purple stockings, Hasten from thy walks restricted, Come among the haunts of heroes, Join thy friends in Kalevala. We shall never treat thee evil, Thou shalt dwell in peace and plenty, Thou shalt feed on milk and honey, Honey is the food of strangers. Haste away from this thy covert, From the couch of the unworthy, To a couch beneath the rafters Of Wainola's ancient dwellings. Haste thee onward o'er the snow-plain, As a leaflet in the autumn; Skip beneath these birchen branches, As a squirrel in the summer, As a cuckoo in the spring-time." Wainamoinen, the magician, The eternal wisdom-singer, O'er the snow-fields hastened homeward, Singing o'er the hills and mountains, With his guest, the ancient Otso, With his friend, the famous Light-foot, With the Honey-paw of Northland. Far away was heard the singing, Heard the playing of the hunter, Heard the songs of Wainamoinen; All the people heard and wondered, Men and maidens, young and aged, From their cabins spake as follows: "Hear the echoes from the woodlands, Hear the bugle from the forest, Hear the flute-notes of the songsters, Hear the pipes of forest-maidens!" Wainamoinen, old and trusty, Soon appears within the court-yard. Rush the people from their cabins, And the heroes ask these questions: "Has a mine of gold been opened, Hast thou found a vein of silver, Precious jewels in thy pathway? Does the forest yield her treasures, Give to thee the Honey-eater? Does the hostess of the woodlands, Give to thee the lynx and adder, Since thou comest home rejoicing, Playing, singing, on thy snow-shoes?" Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Gave this answer to his people: "For his songs I caught the adder, Caught the serpent for his wisdom; Therefore do I come rejoicing, Singing, playing, on my snow-shoes. Not the mountain lynx, nor serpent, Comes, however, to our dwellings; The Illustrious is coming, Pride and beauty of the forest, 'Tis the Master comes among us, Covered with his friendly fur-robe. Welcome, Otso, welcome, Light-foot, Welcome, Loved-one from the glenwood! If the mountain guest is welcome, Open wide the gates of entry; If the bear is thought unworthy, Bar the doors against the stranger." This the answer of the tribe-folk: "We salute thee, mighty Otso, Honey-paw, we bid thee welcome, Welcome to our courts and cabins, Welcome, Light-foot, to our tables Decorated for thy coming! We have wished for thee for ages, Waiting since the days of childhood, For the notes of Tapio's bugle, For the singing of the wood-nymphs, For the coming of dear Otso, For the forest gold and silver, Waiting for the year of plenty, Longing for it as for summer, As the shoe waits for the snow-fields, As the sledge for beaten highways, As the maiden for her suitor, And the wife her husband's coming; Sat at evening by the windows, At the gates have, sat at morning, Sat for ages at the portals, Near the granaries in winter, Vanished, Till the snow-fields warmed and Till the sails unfurled in joyance, Till the earth grew green and blossomed, Thinking all the while as follows: "Where is our beloved Otso, Why delays our forest-treasure? Has he gone to distant Ehstland, To the upper glens of Suomi?" Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: "Whither shall I lead the stranger, Whither take the golden Light-foot? Shall I lead him to the garner, To the house of straw conduct him?" This the answer of his tribe-folk: "To the dining-hall lead Otso, Greatest hero of the Northland. Famous Light-foot, Forest-apple, Pride and glory of the woodlands, Have no fear before these maidens, Fear not curly-headed virgins, Clad in silver-tinselled raiment Maidens hasten to their chambers When dear Otso joins their number, When the hero comes among them." This the prayer of Wainamoinen: "Grant, O Ukko, peace and plenty Underneath these painted rafters, In this ornamented dweling; Thanks be paid to gracious Ukko!" Spake again the ancient minstrel: "Whither shall we lead dear Otso, 'Whither take the fur-clad stranger? This the answer of his people: "Hither let the fur-robed Light-foot Be saluted on his coming; Let the Honey-paw be welcomed To the hearth-stone of the penthouse, Welcomed to the boiling caldrons, That we may admire his fur-robe, May behold his cloak with joyance. Have no care, thou much-loved Otso, Let not anger swell thy bosom As thy coat we view with pleasure; We thy fur shall never injure, Shall not make it into garments To protect unworthy people." Thereupon wise Wainamoinen Pulled the sacred robe from Otso, Spread it in the open court-yard, Cut the members into fragments, Laid them in the heating caldrons, In the copper-bottomed vessels— O'er the fire the crane was hanging, On the crane were hooks of copper, On the hooks the broiling-vessels Filled with bear-steak for the feasting, Seasoned with the salt of Dwina, From the Saxon-land imported, From the distant Dwina-waters, From the salt-sea brought in shallops. Ready is the feast of Otso; From the fire are swung the kettles On the crane of polished iron; In the centers of the tables Is the bear displayed in dishes, Golden dishes, decorated; Of the fir-tree and the linden Were the tables newly fashioned; Drinking cups were forged from copper, Knives of gold and spoons of silver; Filled the vessels to their borders With the choicest bits of Light-foot, Fragments of the Forest-apple. Spake the ancient Wainamoinen "Ancient one with bosom golden, Potent voice in Tapio's councils Metsola's most lovely hostess, Hostess of the glen and forest, Hero-son of Tapiola, Stalwart youth in cap of scarlet, Tapio's most beauteous virgin, Fair Tellervo of the woodlands, Metsola with all her people, Come, and welcome, to the feasting, To the marriage-feast of Otso! All sufficient, the provisions, Food to eat and drink abundant, Plenty for the hosts assembled, Plenty more to give the village." This the question of the people: "Tell us of the birth of Otso! Was he born within a manger, Was he nurtured in the bath-room Was his origin ignoble?" This is Wainamoinen's answer: "Otso was not born a beggar, Was not born among the rushes, Was not cradled in a manger; Honey-paw was born in ether, In the regions of the Moon-land, On the shoulders of Otava, With the daughters of creation. "Through the ether walked a maiden, On the red rims of the cloudlets, On the border of the heavens, In her stockings purple-tinted, In her golden-colored sandals. In her hand she held a wool-box, With a hair-box on her shoulder; Threw the wool upon the ocean, And the hair upon the rivers; These are rocked by winds and waters, Water-currents bear them onward, Bear them to the sandy sea-shore, Land them near the Woods of honey, On an island forest-covered. "Fair Mielikki, woodland hostess, Tapio's most cunning daughter, Took the fragments from the sea-side, Took the white wool from the waters, Sewed the hair and wool together, Laid the bundle in her basket, Basket made from bark of birch-wood, Bound with cords the magic bundle; With the chains of gold she bound it To the pine-tree's topmost branches. There she rocked the thing of magic, Rocked to life the tender baby, Mid the blossoms of the pine-tree, On the fir-top set with needles; Thus the young bear well was nurtured, Thus was sacred Otso cradled On the honey-tree of Northland, In the middle of the forest. "Sacred Otso grew and flourished, Quickly grew with graceful movements, Short of feet, with crooked ankles, Wide of mouth and broad of forehead, Short his nose, his fur-robe velvet; But his claws were not well fashioned, Neither were his teeth implanted. Fair Mielikki, forest hostess, Spake these words in meditation: 'Claws I should be pleased to give him, And with teeth endow the wonder, Would he not abuse the favor.' "Swore the bear a promise sacred, On his knees before Mielikki, Hostess of the glen and forest, And before omniscient Ukko, First and last of all creators, That he would not harm the worthy, Never do a deed of evil. Then Mielikki, woodland hostess, Wisest maid of Tapiola, Sought for teeth and claws to give him, From the stoutest mountain-ashes, From the juniper and oak tree, From the dry knots of the alder. Teeth and claws of these were worthless, Would not render goodly service. "Grew a fir-tree on the mountain, Grew a stately pine in Northland, And the fir had silver branches, Bearing golden cones abundant; These the sylvan maiden gathered, Teeth and claws of these she fashioned In the jaws and feet of Otso, Set them for the best of uses. Then she freed her new-made creature, Let the Light-foot walk and wander, Let him lumber through the marshes, Let him amble through the forest, Roll upon the plains and pastures; Taught him how to walk a hero, How to move with graceful motion, How to live in ease and pleasure, How to rest in full contentment, In the moors and in the marshes, On the borders of the woodlands; How unshod to walk in summer, Stockingless to run in autumn; How to rest and sleep in winter In the clumps of alder-bushes Underneath the sheltering fir-tree, Underneath the pine's protection, Wrapped securely in his fur-robes, With the juniper and willow. This the origin of Otso, Honey-eater of the Northlands, Whence the sacred booty cometh. Thus again the people questioned: Why became the woods so gracious, Why so generous and friendly? Why is Tapio so humored, That he gave his dearest treasure, Gave to thee his Forest-apple, Honey-eater of his kingdom? Was he startled with thine arrows, Frightened with the spear and broadsword?" Wainamoinen, the magician, Gave this answer to the question: "Filled with kindness was the forest, Glen and woodland full of greetings, Tapio showing greatest favor. Fair Mielikki, forest hostess, Metsola's bewitching daughter, Beauteous woodland maid, Tellervo, Gladly led me on my journey, Smoothed my pathway through the glen-wood. Marked the trees upon the mountains, Pointing me to Otso's caverns, To the Great Bear's golden island. "When my journeyings had ended, When the bear had been discovered, Had no need to launch my javelins, Did not need to aim the arrow; Otso tumbled in his vaulting, Lost his balance in his cradle, In the fir-tree where he slumbered; Tore his breast upon the branches, Freely gave his life to others. "Mighty Otso, my beloved, Thou my golden friend and hero, Take thy fur-cap from thy forehead, Lay aside thy teeth forever, Hide thy fingers in the darkness, Close thy mouth and still thine anger, While thy sacred skull is breaking. "Now I take the eyes of Otso, Lest he lose the sense of seeing, Lest their former powers shall weaken; Though I take not all his members, Not alone must these be taken. "Now I take the ears of Otso, Lest he lose the sense of hearing, Lest their former powers shall weaken; Though I take not all his members, Not alone must these be taken. "Now I take the nose of Otso, Lest he lose the sense of smelling, Lest its former powers shall weaken; Though I take not all his members, Not alone must this be taken. "Now I take the tongue of Otso, Lest he lose the sense of tasting Lest its former powers shall weaken; Though I take not all his members, Not alone must this be taken. "Now I take the brain of Otso, Lest he lose the means of thinking, Lest his consciousness should fail him, Lest his former instincts weaken; Though I take not all his members, Not alone must this be taken. "I will reckon him a hero, That will count the teeth of Light-foot, That will loosen Otso's fingers From their settings firmly fastened." None he finds with strength sufficient To perform the task demanded. Therefore ancient Wainamoinen Counts the teeth of sacred Otso; Loosens all the claws of Light-foot, With his fingers strong as copper, Slips them from their firm foundations, Speaking to the bear these measures: "Otso, thou my Honey-eater, Thou my Fur-ball of the woodlands, Onward, onward, must thou journey From thy low and lonely dwelling, To the court-rooms of the village. Go, my treasure, through the pathway Near the herds of swine and cattle, To the hill-tops forest covered, To the high and rising mountains, To the spruce-trees filled with needles, To the branches of the pine-tree; There remain, my Forest-apple, Linger there in lasting slumber, Where the silver bells are ringing, To the pleasure of the shepherd." Thus beginning, and thus ending, Wainamoinen, old and truthful, Hastened from his emptied tables, And the children thus addressed him: "Whither hast thou led thy booty, Where hast left thy Forest-apple, Sacred Otso of the woodlands? Hast thou left him on the iceberg, Buried him upon the snow-field? Hast thou sunk him in the quicksand, Laid him low beneath the heather?" Wainamoinen spake in answer: "Have not left him on the iceberg, Have not buried him in snow-fields; There the dogs would soon devour him, Birds of prey would feast upon him; Have not hidden him in Swamp-land, Have not buried him in heather; There the worms would live upon him, Insects feed upon his body. Thither I have taken Otso, To the summit of the Gold-hill, To the copper-bearing mountain, Laid him in his silken cradle In the summit of a pine-tree, Where the winds and sacred branches Rock him to his lasting slumber, To the pleasure of the hunter, To the joy of man and hero. To the east his lips are pointing, While his eyes are northward looking; But dear Otso looks not upward, For the fierceness of the storm-winds Would destroy his sense of vision." Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Touched again his harp of joyance, Sang again his songs enchanting, To the pleasure of the evening, To the joy of morn arising. Spake the singer of Wainola: "Light for me a torch of pine-wood, For the darkness is appearing, That my playing may be joyous And my wisdom-songs find welcome." Then the ancient sage and singer, Wise and worthy Wainamoinen, Sweetly sang and played, and chanted, Through the long and dreary evening, Ending thus his incantation: "Grant, O Ukko, my Creator, That the people of Wainola May enjoy another banquet In the company of Light-foot; Grant that we may long remember Kalevala's feast with Otso! "Grant, O Ukko, my Creator, That the signs may guide our footsteps, That the notches in the pine-tree May direct my faithful people To the bear-dens of the woodlands; That great Tapio's sacred bugle May resound through glen and forest; That the wood-nymph's call may echo, May be heard in field and hamlet, To the joy of all that listen! Let great Tapio's horn for ages Ring throughout the fen and forest, Through the hills and dales of Northland O'er the meadows and the mountains, To awaken song and gladness In the forests of Wainola, On the snowy plains of Suomi, On the meads of Kalevala, For the coming generations."

through dark

[and cold


light our day]

Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Touched again his magic harp-strings, Sang in miracles of concord, Filled the north with joy and gladness. Melodies arose to heaven, Songs arose to Luna's chambers, Echoed through the Sun's bright windows And the Moon has left her station, Drops and settles in the birch-tree; And the Sun comes from his castle, Settles in the fir-tree branches, Comes to share the common pleasure, Comes to listen to the singing, To the harp of Wainamoinen. Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Northland's old and toothless wizard, Makes the Sun and Moon her captives; In her arms she takes fair Luna From her cradle in the birch-tree, Calls the Sun down from his station, From the fir-tree's bending branches, Carries them to upper Northland, To the darksome Sariola; Hides the Moon, no more to glimmer, In a rock of many colors; Hides the Sun, to shine no longer, In the iron-banded mountain; Thereupon these words she utters: "Moon of gold and Sun of silver, Hide your faces in the caverns Of Pohyola's dismal mountain; Shine no more to gladden Northland, Till I come to give ye freedom, Drawn by coursers nine in number, Sable coursers of one mother!" When the golden Moon had vanished, And the silver Sun had hidden In the iron-banded caverns, Louhi stole the fire from Northland, From the regions of Wainola, Left the mansions cold and cheerless, And the cabins full of darkness. Night was king and reigned unbroken, Darkness ruled in Kalevala, Darkness in the home of Ukko. Hard to live without the moonlight, Harder still without the sunshine; Ukko's life is dark and dismal, When the Sun and Moon desert him. Ukko, first of all creators, Lived in wonder at the darkness; Long reflected, well considered, Why this miracle in heaven, What this accident in nature To the Moon upon her journey; Why the Sun no more is shining, Why has disappeared the moonlight. Then great Ukko walked the heavens, To the border of the cloudlets, In his purple-colored vestments, In his silver-tinselled sandals, Seeking for the golden moonlight, Looking for the silver sunshine. Lightning Ukko struck in darkness From the edges of his fire-sword; Shot the flames in all directions, From his blade of golden color, Into heaven's upper spaces, Into Ether's starry pastures. When a little fire had kindled, Ukko hid it in the cloud-space, In a box of gold and silver, In a case adorned with silver, Gave it to the ether-maidens, Called a virgin then to rock it, That it might become a new-moon, That a second sun might follow. On the long-cloud rocked the virgin, On the blue-edge of the ether, Rocked the fire of the Creator, In her copper-colored cradle, With her ribbons silver-studded. Lowly bend the bands of silver, Loud the golden cradle echoes, And the clouds of Northland thunder, Low descends the dome of heaven, At the rocking of the lightning, Rocking of the fire of Ukko.

there are no victories known to battle, only tears and sorrow

Thus the flame was gently cradled By the virgin of the ether. Long the fair and faithful maiden Stroked the Fire-child with her fingers, Tended it with care and pleasure, Till in an unguarded moment It escaped the Ether-virgin, Slipped the hands of her that nursed it. Quick the heavens are burst asunder, Quick the vault of Ukko opens, Downward drops the wayward Fire-child, Downward quick the red-ball rushes, Shoots across the arch of heaven, Hisses through the startled cloudlets, Flashes through the troubled welkin, Through nine starry vaults of ether. Then the ancient Wainamoinen Spake and these the words he uttered: "Blacksmith brother, Ilmarinen, Let us haste and look together, What the kind of fire that falleth, What the form of light that shineth From the upper vault of heaven, From the lower earth and ocean. Has a second moon arisen, Can it be a ball of sunlight? Thereupon the heroes wandered, Onward journeyed and reflected, How to gain the spot illumined, How to find the sacred Fire-child. Came a river rushing by them, Broad and stately as an ocean. Straightway ancient Wainamoinen There began to build a vessel, Build a boat to cross the river. With the aid of Ilmarinen, From the oak he cut the row-locks, From the pine the oars be fashioned, From the aspen shapes the rudder. When the vessel they had finished, Quick they rolled it to the current, Hard they rowed and ever forward, On the Nawa-stream and waters, At the head of Nawa-river. Ilmatar, the ether-daughter, Foremost daughter of creation, Came to meet them on their journey, Thus addressed the coming strangers: "Who are ye of Northland heroes, Rowing on the Nawa-waters?" Wainamoinen gave this answer: "This the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, I the ancient Wainamoinen. Tell us now thy name and station, Whither going, whence thou comest, Where thy tribe-folk live and linger? Spake the daughter of the Ether: "I the oldest of the women, Am the first of Ether's daughters, Am the first of ancient mothers; Seven times have I been wedded. To the heroes of creation. Whither do ye strangers journey? Answered thus old Wainamoinen: "Fire has left Wainola's hearth-stones, Light has disappeared from Northland; Have been sitting long in darkness, Cold and darkness our companions; Now we journey to discover What the fire that fell from heaven, Falling from the cloud's red lining, To the deeps of earth and ocean." Ilmatar returned this answer: "Hard the flame is to discover, Hard indeed to find the Fire-child; Has committed many mischiefs, Nothing good has he accomplished; Quick the fire-ball fell from ether, From the red rims of the cloudlets, From the plains of the Creator, Through the ever-moving heavens, Through the purple ether-spaces, Through the blackened flues of Turi, To Palwoinen's rooms uncovered. When the fire had reached the chambers Of Palwoinen, son of evil, He began his wicked workings, He engaged in lawless actions, Raged against the blushing maidens, Fired the youth to evil conduct, Singed the beards of men and heroes. "Where the mother nursed her baby, In the cold and cheerless cradle, Thither flew the wicked Fire-child, There to perpetrate some mischief; In the cradle burned the infant, By the infant burned the mother, That the babe might visit Mana, In the kingdom of Tuoni; Said the child was born for dying, Only destined for destruction, Through the tortures of the Fire-child. Greater knowledge had the mother, Did not journey to Manala, Knew the word to check the red-flame, How to banish the intruder Through the eyelet of a needle, Through the death-hole of the hatchet." Then the ancient Wainamoinen Questioned Ilmatar as follows: "Whither did the Fire-child wander, Whither did the red-flame hasten, From the border-fields of Turi, To the woods, or to the waters? Straightway Ilmatar thus answers: "When the fire had fled from Turi, From the castles of Palwoinen, Through the eyelet of the needle, Through the death-hole of the hatchet, First it burned the fields, and forests, Burned the lowlands, and the heather; Then it sought the mighty waters, Sought the Alue-sea and river, And the waters hissed and sputtered In their anger at the Fire-child, Fiery red the boiling Alue! "Three times in the nights of, summer, Nine times in the nights of autumn, Boil the waters to the tree-tops, Roll and tumble to the mountain, Through the red-ball's force and fury; Hurls the pike upon the pastures, To the mountain-cliffs, the salmon, Where the ocean-dwellers wonder, Long reflect and well consider How to still the angry waters. Wept the salmon for his grotto, Mourned the whiting for his cavern, And the lake-trout for his dwelling, Quick the crook-necked salmon darted, Tried to catch the fire-intruder, But the red-ball quick escaped him; Darted then the daring whiting, Swallowed quick the wicked Fire-child, Swallowed quick the flame of evil. Quiet grow the Alue-waters, Slowly settle to their shore-lines, To their long-accustomed places, In the long and dismal evening. "Time had gone but little distance, When the whiting grow affrighted, Fear befel the fire-devourer; Burning pain and writhing tortures Seized the eater of the Fire-child; Swam the fish in all directions, Called, and moaned, and swam, and circled, Swam one day, and then a second, Swam the third from morn till even; Swam she to the whiting-island, To the caverns of the salmon, Where a hundred islands cluster; And the islands there assembled Thus addressed the fire-devourer: 'There is none within these waters, In this narrow Alue-lakelet, That will eat the fated Fire-fish That will swallow thee in trouble, In thine agonies and torture From the Fire-child thou hast eaten.' "Hearing this a trout forth darting, Swallowed quick as light the whiting, Quickly ate the fire-devourer. Time had gone but little distance, When the trout became affrighted, Fear befel the whiting-eater; Burning pain and writhing torment Seized the eater of the Fire-fish. Swam the trout in all directions, Called, and moaned, and swam, and circled, Swam one day, and then a second, Swain the third from morn till even; Swam she to the salmon-island, Swam she to the whiting-grottoes, Where a thousand islands cluster, And the islands there assembled Thus addressed the tortured lake-trout: 'There is none within this river, In these narrow Alue-waters, That will eat the wicked Fire-fish, That will swallow thee in trouble, In thine agonies and tortures, From the Fire-fish thou hast eaten." Hearing this the gray-pike darted, Swallowed quick as light the lake-trout, Quickly ate the tortured Fire-fish. "Time had gone but little distance, When the gray-pike grew affrighted, Fear befel the lake-trout-eater; Burning pain and writhing torment Seized the reckless trout-devourer; Swam the pike in all directions, Called, and moaned, and swam, and circled, Swam one day, and then a second, Swam the third from morn till even, To the cave of ocean-swallows, To the sand-hills of the sea-gull, Where a hundred islands cluster; And the islands there assembled Thus addressed the fire-devourer: 'There is none within this lakelet, In these narrow Alue-waters, That will eat the fated Fire-fish, That will swallow thee in trouble, In thine agonies and tortures, From the Fire-fish thou hast eaten.'" Wainamoinen, wise and ancient, With the aid of Ilmarinen, Weaves with skill a mighty fish-net From the juniper and sea-grass; Dyes the net with alder-water, Ties it well with thongs of willow. Straightway ancient Wainamoinen Called the maidens to the fish-net, And the sisters came as bidden. With the netting rowed they onward, Rowed they to the hundred islands, To the grottoes of the salmon, To the caverns of the whiting, To the reeds of sable color, Where the gray-pike rests and watches. On they hasten to the fishing, Drag the net in all directions, Drag it lengthwise, sidewise, crosswise, And diagonally zigzag; But they did not catch the Fire-fish. Then the brothers went a-fishing, Dragged the net in all directions, Backwards, forwards, lengthwise, sidewise, Through the homes of ocean-dwellers, Through the grottoes of the salmon, Through the dwellings of the whiting, Through the reed-beds of the lake-trout, Where the gray-pike lies in ambush; But the fated Fire-fish came not, Came not from the lake's abysses, Came not from the Alue-waters. Little fish could not be captured In the large nets of the masters; Murmured then the deep-sea-dwellers, Spake the salmon to the lake-trout, And the lake-trout to the whiting, And the whiting to the gray-pike: Have the heroes of Wainola Died, or have they all departed From these fertile shores and waters? Where then are the ancient weavers, Weavers of the nets of flax-thread, Those that frighten us with fish-poles, Drag us from our homes unwilling?" Hearing this wise Wainamoinen Answered thus the deep-sea-dwellers: "Neither have Wainola's heroes Died, nor have they all departed From these fertile shores and waters, Two are born where one has perished; Longer poles and finer fish-nets Have the sons of Kalevala!"

a fish

[that our


now holds]

Wainamoinen, the enchanter, The eternal wisdom-singer, Long reflected, well considered, How to weave the net of flax-yarn, Weave the fish-net of the fathers. Spake the minstrel of Wainola: "Who will plow the field and fallow, Sow the flax, and spin the flax-threads, That I may prepare the fish-net, Wherewith I may catch the Fire-pike, May secure the thing of evil?" Soon they found a fertile island, Found the fallow soil befitting, On the border of the heather, And between two stately oak-trees. They prepared the soil for sowing. Searching everywhere for flax-seed, Found it in Tuoni's kingdom, In the keeping of an insect. Then they found a pile of ashes, Where the fire had burned a vessel; In the ashes sowed the seedlings Near the Alue-lake and border, In the rich and loamy fallow. There the seed took root and flourished, Quickly grew to great proportions, In a single night in summer. Thus the flax was sowed at evening, Placed within the earth by moonlight; Quick it grew, and quickly ripened, Quick Wainola's heroes pulled it, Quick they broke it on the hackles, Hastened with it to the waters, Dipped it in the lake and washed it; Quickly brought it borne and dried it. Quickly broke, and combed, and smoothed it, Brushed it well at early morning, Laid it into laps for spinning Quick the maidens twirl the spindles, Spin the flaxen threads for weaving, In a single night in summer. Quick the sisters wind and reel it, Make it ready for the needle. Brothers weave it into fish-nets, And the fathers twist the cordage, While the mothers knit the meshes, Rapidly the mesh-stick circles; Soon the fish-net is completed, In a single night in summer. As the magic net is finished, And in length a hundred fathoms, On the rim three hundred fathoms. Rounded stones are fastened to it, Joined thereto are seven float-boards. Now the young men take the fish-net, And the old men cheer them onward, Wish them good-luck at their fishing. Long they row and drag the flax-seine, Here and there the net is lowered; Now they drag it lengthwise, sidewise, Drag it through the slimy reed-beds; But they do not catch the Fire-pike, Only smelts, and luckless red-fish, Little fish of little value. Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: "O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Let us go ourselves a-fishing, Let us catch the fish of evil!" To the fishing went the brothers, Magic heroes of the Northland, Pulled the fish-net through the waters, Toward an island in the deep-sea Then they turn and drag the fish-net Toward a meadow jutting seaward; Now they drag it toward Wainola, Draw it lengthwise, sidewise, crosswise, Catching fish of every species, salmon, trout, and pike, and whiting, Do not catch the evil Fire-fish. Then the master, Wainamoinen, Made additions to its borders, Made it many fathoms wider, And a hundred fathoms longer, Then these words the hero uttered "Famous blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Let us go again a-fishing, Row again the magic fish-net, Drag it well through all the waters, That we may obtain the Fire-pike!" Thereupon the Northland heroes Go a second time a-fishing, Drag their nets across the rivers, Lakelets, seas, and bays, and inlets, Catching fish of many species, But the Fire-fish is not taken. Wainamoinen, ancient singer, Long reflecting, spake these measures: "Dear Wellamo, water-hostess, Ancient mother with the reed-breast, Come, exchange thy water-raiment, Change thy coat of reeds and rushes For the garments I shall give thee, Light sea-foam, thine inner vesture, And thine outer, moss and sea-grass, Fashioned by the wind's fair daughters, Woven by the flood's sweet maidens; I will give thee linen vestments Spun from flax of softest fiber, Woven by the Moon's white virgins, Fashioned by the Sun's bright daughters Fitting raiment for Wellamo! "Ahto, king of all the waters, Ruler of a thousand grottoes, Take a pole of seven fathoms, Search with this the deepest waters, Rummage well the lowest bottoms; Stir up all the reeds and sea-weeds, Hither drive a school of gray-pike, Drive them to our magic fish-net, From the haunts in pike abounding, From the caverns, and the trout-holes, From the whirlpools of the deep-sea, From the bottomless abysses, Where the sunshine never enters, Where the moonlight never visits, And the sands are never troubled."

to catch the fish that holds our fire

Rose a pigmy from the waters, From the floods a little hero, Riding on a rolling billow, And the pigmy spake these measures: "Dost thou wish a worthy helper, One to use the pole and frighten Pike and salmon to thy fish-nets?" Wainamoinen, old and faithful, Answered thus the lake-born hero: "Yea, we need a worthy helper, One to hold the pole, and frighten Pike and salmon to our fish-nets." Thereupon the water-pigmy Cut a linden from the border, Spake these words to Wainamoinen: "Shall I scare with all my powers, With the forces of my being, As thou needest shall I scare them?" Spake the minstrel, Wainamoinen: "If thou scarest as is needed, Thou wilt scare with all thy forces, With the strength of thy dominions." Then began the pigmy-hero, To affright the deep-sea-dwellers; Drove the fish in countless numbers To the net of the magicians. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Drew his net along the waters, Drew it with his ropes of flax-thread, Spake these words of magic import: "Come ye fish of Northland waters To the regions of my fish-net, As my hundred meshes lower." Then the net was drawn and fastened, Many were the gray-pike taken By he master and magician. Wainamoinen, happy-hearted, Hastened to a neighboring island, To a blue-point in the waters, Near a red-bridge on the headland; Landed there his draught of fishes, Cast the pike upon the sea-shore, And the Fire-pike was among them, Cast the others to the waters. Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: "May I touch thee with my fingers, Using not my gloves of iron, Using not my blue-stone mittens? This the Sun-child hears and answers: "I should like to carve the Fire-fish, I should like this pike to handle, If I had the knife of good-luck." Quick a knife falls from the heavens, From the clouds a magic fish-knife, Silver-edged and golden-headed, To the girdle of the Sun-child; Quick he grasps the copper handle, Quick the hero carves the Fire-pike, Finds therein the tortured lake-trout; Carves the lake-trout thus discovered. Finds therein the fated whiting; Carves the whiting, finds a blue-ball In the third cave of his body. He, the blue-ball quick unwinding, Finds within a ball of scarlet; Carefully removes the cover, Finds the ball of fire within it, Finds the flame from heaven fallen, From the heights of the seventh heaven, Through nine regions of the ether. Wainamoinen long reflected How to get the magic fire-ball To Wainola's fireless hearth-stones, To his cold and cheerless dwellings. Quick he snatched the fire of heaven From the fingers of the Sun-child. Wainamoinen's beard it singes, Burns the brow of Ilmarinen, Burns the fingers of the blacksmith. Rolling forth it hastens westward, Hastens to the Alue shore-lines, Burns the juniper and alder, Burns the and heath and meadow, Rises to the lofty linden, Burns the firs upon the mountains; Hastens onward, onward, onward, Burns the islands of the Northland, Burns the Sawa fields and forests, Burns the dry lands of Karyala. Straightway ancient Wainamoinen Hastens through the fields and fenlands, Tracks the ranger to the glen-wood, Finds the Fire-child in an elm-tree, Sleeping in a bed of fungus. Thereupon wise Wainamoinen Wakes the child and speaks these measures: "Wicked fire that God created, Flame of Ukko from the heavens, Thou hast gone in vain to sea-caves, To the lakes without a reason; Better go thou to my village, To the hearth-stones of my people; Hide thyself within my chimneys, In mine ashes sleep and linger. In the day-time I will use thee To devour the blocks of birch-wood; In the evening I will hide thee Underneath the golden circle." Then he took the willing Panu, Took the willing fire of Ukko, Laid it in a box of tinder, In the punk-wood of a birch-tree, In a vessel forged from copper; Carried it with care and pleasure To the fog-point in the waters, To the island forest covered. Thus returned the fire to Northland, To the chambers of Wainola, To the hearths of Kalevala. Ilmarinen, famous blacksmith, Hastened to the deep-sea's margin, Sat upon the rock of torture, Feeling pain the flame had given, Laved his wounds with briny water, Thus to still the Fire-child's fury, Thus to end his persecutions. Long reflecting, Ilmarinen Thus addressed the flame of Ukko: "Evil Panu from the heavens, Wicked son of God from ether, Tell me what has made thee angry, Made thee burn my weary members, Burn my beard, and face, and fingers, Made me suffer death-land tortures? Spake again young Ilmarinen: "How can I wild Panu conquer, How shall I control his conduct, Make him end his evil doings? Come, thou daughter from Pohyola, Come, white virgin of the hoar-frost, Come on shoes of ice from Lapland, Icicles upon thy garments, In one band a cup of white-frost, In the other hand an ice-spoon; Sprinkle snow upon my members, Where the Fire-child has been resting, Let the hoar-frost fall and settle. "Should this prayer be unavailing, Come, thou son of Sariola, Come, thou child of Frost from Pohya, Come, thou Long-man from the ice-plains, Of the height of stately pine-trees, Slender as the trunks of lindens, On thy hands the gloves of Hoar-frost, Cap of ice upon thy forehead, On thy waist a white-frost girdle; Bring the ice-dust from Pohyola, From the cold and sunless village. Rain is crystallized in Northland, Ice in Pohya is abundant, Lakes of ice and ice-bound rivers, Frozen smooth, the sea of ether. Bounds the hare in frosted fur-robe, Climbs the bear in icy raiment, Ambles o'er the snowy mountains. Swans of frost descend the rivers, Ducks of ice in countless numbers Swim upon thy freezing waters, Near the cataract and whirlpool. Bring me frost upon thy snow-sledge, Snow and ice in great abundance, From the summit of the wild-top, From the borders of the mountains. With thine ice, and snow, and hoar-frost Cover well mine injured members Where wild Panu has been resting, Where the child of Fire has lingered. "Should this call be ineffective, Ukko, God of love and mercy, First and last of the creators, From the east send forth a snow-cloud, From the west despatch a second, Join their edges well together, Let there be no vacant places, Let these clouds bring snow and Lay the healing balm of Ukko On my burning, tortured tissues, Where wild Panu has been resting." Thus the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Stills the pains by fire engendered, Stills the agonies and tortures Brought him by the child of evil, Brought him by the wicked Panu.



the river

And mountain

Our soon


Thus has Fire returned to Northland But the gold Moon is not shining, Neither gleams the silver sunlight In the chambers of Wainola, On the plains of Kalevala. On the crops the white-frost settled, And the cattle died of hunger, Even birds grew sick and perished. Men and maidens, faint and famished, Perished in the cold and darkness, From the absence of the sunshine, From the absence of the moonlight. Knew the pike his holes and hollows, And the eagle knew his highway, Knew the winds the times for sailing; But the wise men of the Northland Could not know the dawn of morning, On the fog-point in the ocean, On the islands forest-covered. Young and aged talked and wondered, Well reflected, long debated, How to live without the moonlight, Live without the silver sunshine, In the cold and cheerless Northland, In the homes of Kalevala. Long conjectured all the maidens, Orphans asked the wise for counsel. Spake a maid to Ilmarinen, Running to the blacksmith's furnace: "Rise, O artist, from thy slumbers, Hasten from thy couch unworthy; Forge from gold the Moon for Northland, Forge anew the Sun from silver Cannot live without the moonlight, Nor without the silver sunshine!" From his couch arose the artist, From his couch of stone, the blacksmith, And began his work of forging, Forging Sun and Moon for Northland. Came the ancient Wainamoinen, In the doorway sat and lingered, Spake, these Words to Ilmarinen: "Blacksmith, my beloved brother, Thou the only metal-worker, Tell me why thy magic hammer Falls so heavy on thine anvil?" Spake the youthful Ilmarinen: "Moon of gold and Sun of silver, I am forging for Wainola; I shall swing them into ether, Plant them in the starry heavens." Spake the wise, old Wainamoinen: "Senseless blacksmith of the ages, Vainly dost thou swing thy hammer, Vainly rings thy mighty anvil; Silver will not gleam as sunshine, Not of gold is born the moonlight!" Ilmarinen, little heeding, Ceases not to ply his hammer, Sun and Moon the artist forges, Wings the Moon of Magic upward, Hurls it to the pine-tree branches; Does not shine without her master. Then the silver Sun he stations In an elm-tree on the mountain. From his forehead drip the sweat-drops, Perspiration from his fingers, Through his labors at the anvil While the Sun and Moon were forging; But the Sun shone not at morning From his station in the elm-tree; And the Moon shone not at evening From the pine-tree's topmost branches. Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: "Let the Fates be now consulted, And the oracles examined; Only thus may we discover Where the Sun and Moon lie hidden." Thereupon old Wainamoinen, Only wise and true magician, Cut three chips from trunks of alder, Laid the chips in magic order, Touched and turned them with his fingers, Spake these words of master-magic: "Of my Maker seek I knowledge, Ask in hope and faith the answer From the great magician, Ukko: Tongue of alder, tell me truly, Symbol of the great Creator, Where the Sun and Moon are sleeping; For the Moon shines not in season, Nor appears the Sun at midday, From their stations in the sky-vault.

fire had returned to the northern lands

Speak the truth, O magic alder, Speak not words of man, nor hero, Hither bring but truthful measures. Let us form a sacred compact: If thou speakest me a falsehood, I will hurl thee to Manala, Let the nether fires consume thee, That thine evil signs may perish." Thereupon the alder answered, Spake these words of truthful import: "Verily the Sun lies hidden And the golden Moon is sleeping In the stone-berg of Pohyola, In the copper-bearing mountain." These the words of Wainamoinen: "I shall go at once to Northland, To the cold and dark Pohyola, Bring the Sun and Moon to gladden All Wainola's fields and forests." Forth he hastens on his journey, To the dismal Sariola, To the Northland cold and dreary; Travels one day, then a second, So the third from morn till evening, When appear the gates of Pohya, With her snow-clad hills and mountains. Wainamoinen, the magician, At the river of Pohyola, Loudly calls the ferry-maiden: Bring a boat, O Pohya-daughter, Bring a strong and trusty vessel, Row me o'er these chilling waters, O'er this rough and rapid river!" But the Ferry-maiden heard not, Did not listen to his calling. Thereupon old Wainamoinen, Laid a pile of well-dried brush-wood, Knots and needles of the fir-tree, Made a fire beside the river, Sent the black smoke into heaven Curling to the home of Ukko. Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Hastened to her chamber window, Looked upon the bay and river, Spake these words to her attendants: "Why the fire across the river Where the current meets the deep-sea, Smaller than the fires of foemen, Larger than the flames of hunters?" Thereupon a Pohyalander Hastened from the court of Louhi That the cause he might discover,' Bring the sought-for information To the hostess of Pohyola; Saw upon the river-border Some great hero from Wainola. Wainamoinen saw the stranger, Called again in tones of thunder: "Bring a skiff; thou son of Northland, For the minstrel, Wainamoinen! Thus the Pohyalander answered: "Here no skiffs are lying idle, Row thyself across the waters, Use thine arms, and feet, and fingers, To propel thee o'er the river, O'er the sacred stream of Pohya." Wainamoinen, long reflecting, Bravely thus soliloquizes: "I will change my form and features, Will assume a second body, Neither man, nor ancient minstrel, Master of the Northland waters!" Then the singer, Wainamoinen, Leaped, a pike, upon the waters, Quickly swam the rapid river, Gained the frigid Pohya-border. There his native form resuming, Walked he as a mighty hero, On the dismal isle of Louhi, Spake the wicked sons of Northland: Come thou to Pohyola's court-room." To Pohyola's, court he hastened. Spake again the sons of evil: Come thou to the halls of Louhi!" To Pohyola's halls he hastened. On the latch he laid his fingers, Set his foot within the fore-hall, Hastened to the inner chamber, Underneath the painted rafters, Where the Northland-heroes gather. There he found the Pohya-masters Girded with their swords of battle, With their spears and battle-axes, With their fatal bows and arrows, For the death of Wainamoinen, Ancient bard, Suwantolainen. Thus they asked the hero-stranger. "Magic swimmer of the Northland, Son of evil, what the message That thou bringest from thy people, What thy mission to Pohyola?" Wainamoinen, old and truthful, Thus addressed the hosts of Louhi: "For the Sun I come to Northland, Come to seek the Moon in Pohya; Tell me where the Sun lies hidden, Where the golden Moon is sleeping." Spake the evil sons of Pohya: "Both the Sun and Moon are hidden In the rock of many colors, In the copper-bearing mountain, In a cavern iron-banded, In the stone-berg of Pohyola, Nevermore to gain their freedom, Nevermore to shine in Northland!" Spake the hero, Wainamoinen: "If the Sun be not uncovered, If the Moon leave not her dungeon, I will challenge all Pohyola To the test of spear or broadsword, Let us now our weapons measure!" Quick the hero of Wainola Drew his mighty sword of magic; On its border shone the moonlight, On its hilt the Sun was shining, On its back, a neighing stallion, On its face a cat was mewing, Beautiful his magic weapon. Quick the hero-swords are tested, And the blades are rightly measured Wainamoinen's sword is longest By a single grain of barley, By a blade of straw, the widest. To the court-yard rushed the heroes, Hastened to the deadly combat, On the plains of Sariola. Wainamoinen, the magician, Strikes one blow, and then a second, Strikes a third time, cuts and conquers. As the house-maids slice the turnips, As they lop the heads of cabbage, As the stalks of flax are broken, So the heads of Louhi's heroes Fall before the magic broadsword Of the ancient Wainamoinen. Then victor from Wainola, Ancient bard and great magician, Went to find the Sun in slumber, And the golden Moon discover, In the copper-bearing Mountains, In the cavern iron-banded, In the stone-berg of Pohyola. He had gone but little distance, When he found a sea-green island; On the island stood a birch-tree, Near the birch-tree stood a pillar Carved in stone of many colors; In the pillar, nine large portals Bolted in a hundred places; In the rock he found a crevice Sending forth a gleam of sunlight. Quick he drew his mighty broadsword, From the pillar struck three colors, From the magic of his weapon; And the pillar fell asunder, Three the number of the fragments. Wainamoinen, old and faithful, Through the crevice looked and wondered. In the center of the pillar, From a scarlet-colored basin, Noxious serpents beer were drinking, And the adders eating spices. Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: "Therefore has Pohyola's hostess Little drink to give to strangers, Since her beer is drank by serpents, And her spices given to adders." Quick he draws his magic fire-blade, Cuts the vipers green in pieces, Lops the heads off all the adders, Speaks these words of master-magic: Thus, hereafter, let the serpent Drink the famous beer of barley, Feed upon the Northland-spices!" Wainamoinen, the magician, The eternal wizard-singer, Sought to open wide the portals With the hands and words of magic; But his hands had lost their cunning, And his magic gone to others. Thereupon the ancient minstrel Quick returning, heavy-hearted, To his native halls and hamlets, Thus addressed his brother-heroes: "Woman, he without his weapons, With no implements, a weakling! Sun and Moon have I discovered, But I could not force the Portals Leading to their rocky cavern In the copper bearing mountain. Spake the reckless Lemminkainen "O thou ancient Wainamoinen, Why was I not taken with thee To become, thy war-companion? Would have been of goodly service, Would have drawn the bolts or broken, All the portals to the cavern, Where the Sun and Moon lie hidden In the copper-bearing mountain!" Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Thus replied to Lemminkainen: "Empty Words will break no portals, Draw no bolts of any moment; Locks and bolts are never broken. With the words of little wisdom! Greater means than thou commandest Must be used to free the sunshine, Free the moonlight from her dungeon." Wainamoinen, not discouraged, Hastened to the forge and smithy, Spake these words to Ilmarinen: "O thou famous metal-artist, Forge for me a magic trident, Forge from steel a dozen stout-rings, Master-keys, a goodly number, Iron bars and heavy hammers, That the Sun we may uncover In the copper-bearing mountain, In the stone-berg of Pohyola." Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, The eternal metal-worker, Forged the needs of Wainamoinen, Forged for him the magic trident, Forged from steel a dozen stout-rings, Master-keys a goodly number, Iron bars and heavy hammers, Not the largest, nor the smallest, Forged them of the right dimensions. Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Northland's old and toothless wizard, Fastened wings upon her shoulders, As an eagle, sailed the heavens, Over field, and fen, and forest, Over Pohya's many, waters, To the hamlets of Wainola, To the forge of Ilmarinen. Quick the famous metal-worker Went to see if winds were blowing; Found the winds at peace and silent, Found an eagle, sable-colored, Perched upon his window-casement. Spake the artist, Ilmarinen: "Magic bird, whom art thou seeking, Why art sitting at my window?" This the answer of the eagle: "Art thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen, The eternal iron-forger, Master of the magic metals, Northland's wonder-working artist?" Ilmarinen gave this answer: "There is nothing here of wonder, Since I forged the dome of heaven, Forged the earth a concave cover!" Spake again the magic eagle: Why this ringing of thine anvil, Why this knocking of thy hammer, Tell me what thy hands are forging?" This the answer of the blacksmith: "'Tis a collar I am forging For the neck of wicked Louhi, Toothless witch of Sariola, Stealer of the silver sunshine, Stealer of the golden moonlight; With this collar I shall bind her To the iron-rock of Ehstland!" Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Saw misfortune fast approaching, Saw destruction flying over, Saw the signs of bad-luck lower; Quickly winged her way through ether To her native halls and chambers, To the darksome Sariola, There unlocked the massive portals Where the Sun and Moon were hidden, In the rock of many colors, In the cavern iron-banded, In the copper-bearing mountain. Then again the wicked Louhi Changed her withered form and features, And became a dove of good-luck; Straightway winged the starry heavens, Over field, and fen, and forest, To the meadows of Wainola, To the plains of Kalevala, To the forge of Ilmarinen. This the question of the blacksmith "Wherefore comest, dove of good-luck, What the tidings that thou bringest?" Thus the magic bird made answer: "Wherefore come I to thy smithy? Come to bring the joyful tidings That the Sun has left his cavern, Left the rock of many colors, Left the stone-berg of Pohyola; That the Moon no more is hidden In the copper-bearing mountains, In the caverns iron-banded." Straightway hastened Ilmarinen To the threshold of his smithy, Quickly scanned the far horizon, Saw again the silver sunshine, Saw once more the golden moonlight, Bringing peace, and joy, and plenty, To the homes of Kalevala. Thereupon the blacksmith hastened To his brother, Wainamoinen, Spake these words to the magician: "O thou ancient bard and minstrel, The eternal wizard-singer See, the Sun again is shining, And the golden Moon is beaming From their long-neglected places, From their stations in the sky-vault!" Wainamoinen, old and faithful, Straightway hastened to the court-yard, Looked upon the far horizon, Saw once more the silver sunshine, Saw again the golden moonlight, Bringing peace, and joy, and plenty, To the people of the Northland, And the minstrel spake these measures: "Greetings to thee, Sun of fortune, Greetings to thee, Moon of good-luck, Welcome sunshine, welcome moonlight, Golden is the dawn of morning! Free art thou, O Sun of silver, Free again, O Moon beloved, As the sacred cuckoo's singing, As the ring-dove's liquid cooings. "Rise, thou silver Sun, each Morning, Source of light and life hereafter, Bring us, daily, joyful greetings, Fill our homes with peace and plenty, That our sowing, fishing, hunting, May be prospered by thy coming. Travel on thy daily journey, Let the Moon be ever with thee; Glide along thy way rejoicing, End thy journeyings in slumber; Rest at evening in the ocean, When the daily cares have ended, To the good of all thy people, To the pleasure Of Wainoloa, To the joy of Kalevala!"




departed heroes]

Mariatta, child of beauty, Grew to maidenhood in Northland, In the cabin of her father, In the chambers of her mother, Golden ringlets, silver girdles, Worn against the keys paternal, Glittering upon her bosom; Wore away the father's threshold With the long robes of her garments; Wore away the painted rafters With her beauteous silken ribbons; Wore away the gilded pillars With the touching of her fingers; Wore away the birchen flooring With the tramping of her fur-shoes. Mariatta, child of beauty, Magic maid of little stature, Guarded well her sacred virtue, Her sincerity and honor, Fed upon the dainty whiting, On the inner bark of birch-wood, On the tender flesh of lambkins. When she hastened in the evening To her milking in the hurdles, Spake in innocence as follows: "Never will the snow-white virgin Milk the kine of one unworthy!" When she journeyed over snow-fields, On the seat beside her father, Spake in purity as follows: "Not behind a steed unworthy Will I ever ride the snow-sledge!" Mariatta, child of beauty, Lived a virgin with her mother, As a maiden highly honored, Lived in innocence and beauty, Daily drove her flocks to pasture, Walking with the gentle lambkins. When the lambkins climbed the mountains, When they gamboled on the hill-tops, Stepped the virgin to the meadow, Skipping through a grove of lindens, At the calling of the cuckoo, To the songster's golden measures. Mariatta, child of beauty, Looked about, intently listened, Sat upon the berry-meadow Sat awhile, and meditated On a hillock by the forest, And soliloquized as follows: "Call to me, thou golden cuckoo, Sing, thou sacred bird of Northland, Sing, thou silver breasted songster, Speak, thou strawberry of Ehstland, Tell bow long must I unmarried, As a shepherdess neglected, Wander o'er these bills and mountains, Through these flowery fens and fallows. Tell me, cuckoo of the woodlands, Sing to me how many summers I must live without a husband, As a shepherdess neglected!" Mariatta, child of beauty, Lived a shepherd-maid for ages, As a virgin with her mother. Wretched are the lives of shepherds, Lives of maidens still more wretched, Guarding flocks upon the mountains; Serpents creep in bog and stubble, On the greensward dart the lizards; But it was no serpent singing, Nor a sacred lizard calling, It was but the mountain-berry Calling to the lonely maiden: "Come, O virgin, come and pluck me, Come and take me to thy bosom, Take me, tinsel-breasted virgin, Take me, maiden, copper-belted, Ere the slimy snail devours me, Ere the black-worm feeds upon me. Hundreds pass my way unmindful, Thousands come within my hearing, Berry-maidens swarm about me, Children come in countless numbers, None of these has come to gather, Come to pluck this ruddy berry." Mariatta, child of beauty, Listened to its gentle pleading, Ran to pick the berry, calling, With her fair and dainty fingers,. Saw it smiling near the meadow, Like a cranberry in feature, Like a strawberry in flavor; But be Virgin, Mariatta, Could not pluck the woodland-stranger, Thereupon she cut a charm-stick, Downward pressed upon the berry, When it rose as if by magic, Rose above her shoes of ermine, Then above her copper girdle, Darted upward to her bosom, Leaped upon the maiden's shoulder, On her dimpled chin it rested, On her lips it perched a moment, Hastened to her tongue expectant To and fro it rocked and lingered, Thence it hastened on its journey, Settled in the maiden's bosom.

for the good of future days

Mariatta, child of beauty, Thus became a bride impregnate, Wedded to the mountain-berry; Lingered in her room at morning, Sat at midday in the darkness, Hastened to her couch at evening. Thus the watchful mother wonders: "What has happened to our Mary, To our virgin, Mariatta, That she throws aside her girdle, Shyly slips through hall and chamber, Lingers in her room at morning, Hastens to her couch at evening, Sits at midday in the darkness?" On the floor a babe was playing, And the young child thus made answer: "This has happened to our Mary, To our virgin, Mariatta, This misfortune to the maiden: She has lingered by the meadows, Played too long among the lambkins, Tasted of the mountain-berry." Long the virgin watched and waited, Anxiously the days she counted, Waiting for the dawn of trouble. Finally she asked her mother, These the words of Mariatta: "Faithful mother, fond and tender, Mother whom I love and cherish, Make for me a place befitting, Where my troubles may be lessened, And my heavy burdens lightened." This the answer of the mother: "Woe to thee, thou Hisi-maiden, Since thou art a bride unworthy, Wedded only to dishonor!" Mariatta, child of beauty, Thus replied in truthful measures: "I am not a maid of Hisi, I am not a bride unworthy, Am not wedded to dishonor; As a shepherdess I wandered With the lambkins to the glen-wood, Wandered to the berry-mountain, Where the strawberry had ripened; Quick as thought I plucked the berry, On my tongue I gently laid it, To and fro it rocked and lingered, Settled in my heaving bosom. This the source of all my trouble, Only cause of my dishonor!" As the mother was relentless, Asked the maiden of her father, This the virgin-mother's pleading: O my father, full of pity, Source of both my good and evil, Build for me a place befitting, Where my troubles may be lessened, And my heavy burdens lightened." This the answer of the father, Of the father unforgiving: "Go, thou evil child of Hisi, Go, thou child of sin and sorrow, Wedded only to dishonor, To the Great Bear's rocky chamber, To the stone-cave of the growler, There to lessen all thy troubles, There to cast thy heavy burdens!" Mariatta, child of beauty, Thus made answer to her father: "I am not a child of Hisi, I am not a bride unworthy, Am not wedded to dishonor; I shall bear a noble hero, I shall bear a son immortal, Who will rule among the mighty, Rule the ancient Wainamoinen." Thereupon the virgin-mother Wandered hither, wandered thither, Seeking for a place befitting, Seeking for a worthy birth-place For her unborn son and hero; Finally these words she uttered "Piltti, thou my youngest maiden, Trustiest of all my servants, Seek a place within the village, Ask it of the brook of Sara, For the troubled Mariatta, Child of sorrow and misfortune." Thereupon the little maiden, Piltti, spake these words in answer: "Whom shall I entreat for succor, Who will lend me his assistance? These the words of Mariatta: "Go and ask it of Ruotus, Where the reed-brook pours her waters." Thereupon the servant, Piltti, Ever hopeful, ever willing, Hastened to obey her mistress, Needing not her exhortation; Hastened like the rapid river, Like the flying smoke of battle To the cabin of Ruotus. When she walked the hill-tops tottered, When she ran the mountains trembled; Shore-reeds danced upon the pasture, Sandstones skipped about the heather As the maiden, Piltti, hastened To the dwelling of Ruotus. At his table in his cabin Sat Ruotus, eating, drinking, In his simple coat of linen. With his elbows on the table Spake the wizard in amazement: "Why hast thou, a maid of evil, Come to see me in my cavern, What the message thou art bringing? Thereupon the servant, Piltti, Gave this answer to the wizard: "Seek I for a spot befitting, Seek I for a worthy birth-place, For an unborn child and hero; Seek it near the Sara-streamlet, Where the reed-brook pours her waters. Came the wife of old Ruotus, Walking with her arms akimbo, Thus addressed the maiden, Piltti: "Who is she that asks assistance, Who the maiden thus dishonored, What her name, and who her kindred?" "I have come for Mariatta, For the worthy virgin-mother." Spake the wife of old Ruotus, Evil-minded, cruel-hearted: "Occupied are all our chambers, All our bath-rooms near the reed-brook; in the mount of fire are couches, is a stable in the forest, For the flaming horse of Hisi; In the stable is a manger Fitting birth-place for the hero From the wife of cold misfortune, Worthy couch for Mariatta!" Thereupon the servant, Piltti, Hastened to her anxious mistress, Spake these measures, much regretting. "There is not a place befitting, on the silver brook of Sara. Spake the wife of old Ruotus: 'Occupied are all the chambers, All the bath-rooms near the reed-brook; In the mount of fire are couches, Is a stable, in the forest, For the flaming horse of Hisi; In the stable is a manger, Fitting birth-place for the hero From the wife of cold misfortune, Worthy couch for Mariatta.'" Thereupon the hapless maiden, Mariatta, virgin-mother, Fell to bitter tears and murmurs, Spake these words in depths of sorrow: "I, alas! must go an outcast, Wander as a wretched hireling, Like a servant in dishonor, Hasten to the burning mountain, To the stable in the forest, Make my bed within a manger, Near the flaming steed of Hisi!" Quick the hapless virgin-mother, Outcast from her father's dwelling, Gathered up her flowing raiment, Grasped a broom of birchen branches, Hastened forth in pain and sorrow To the stable in the woodlands, On the heights of Tapio's mountains, Spake these words in supplication: "Come, I pray thee, my Creator, Only friend in times of trouble, Come to me and bring protection To thy child, the virgin-mother, To the maiden, Mariatta, In this hour of sore affliction. Come to me, benignant Ukko, Come, thou only hope and refuge, Lest thy guiltless child should perish, Die the death of the unworthy!" When the virgin, Mariatta, Had arrived within the stable Of the flaming horse of Hisi, She addressed the steed as follows: "Breathe, O sympathizing fire-horse, Breathe on me, the virgin-mother, Let thy heated breath give moisture, Let thy pleasant warmth surround me, Like the vapor of the morning; Let this pure and helpless maiden Find a refuge in thy manger!" Thereupon the horse, in pity, Breathed the moisture of his nostrils On the body of the virgin, Wrapped her in a cloud of vapor, Gave her warmth and needed comforts, Gave his aid to the afflicted, To the virgin, Mariatta. There the babe was born and cradled Cradled in a woodland-manger, Of the virgin, Mariatta, Pure as pearly dews of morning, Holy as the stars in heaven. There the mother rocks her infant, In his swaddling clothes she wraps him, Lays him in her robes of linen; Carefully the babe she nurtures, Well she guards her much-beloved, Guards her golden child of beauty, Her beloved gem of silver. But alas! the child has vanished, Vanished while the mother slumbered. Mariatta, lone and wretched, Fell to weeping, broken-hearted, Hastened off to seek her infant. Everywhere the mother sought him, Sought her golden child of beauty, Her beloved gem of silver; Sought him underneath the millstone, In the sledge she sought him vainly, Underneath the sieve she sought him, Underneath the willow-basket, Touched the trees, the grass she parted, Long she sought her golden infant, Sought him on the fir-tree-mountain, In the vale, and hill, and heather; Looks within the clumps of flowers, Well examines every thicket, Lifts the juniper and willow, Lifts the branches of the alder. Lo! a star has come to meet her, And the star she thus beseeches-. "O, thou guiding-star of Northland, Star of hope, by God created, Dost thou know and wilt thou tell me Where my darling child has wandered, Where my holy babe lies hidden?" Thus the star of Northland answers: "If I knew, I would not tell thee; 'Tis thy child that me created, Set me here to watch at evening, In the cold to shine forever, Here to twinkle in the darkness." Comes the golden Moon to meet her, And the Moon she thus beseeches: "Golden Moon, by Ukko fashioned, Hope and joy of Kalevala, Dost thou know and wilt thou tell me Where my darling child has wandered, Where my holy babe lies hidden? Speaks the golden Moon in answer: "If I knew I would not tell thee; 'Tis thy child that me created, Here to wander in the darkness, All alone at eve to wander On my cold and cheerless journey, Sleeping only in the daylight, Shining for the good of others." Thereupon the virgin-mother Falls again to bitter weeping, Hastens on through fen and forest, Seeking for her babe departed. Comes the silver Sun to meet her, And the Sun she thus addresses: "Silver Sun by Ukko fashioned, Source of light and life to Northland, Dost thou know and wilt thou tell me Where my darling child has wandered, Where my holy babe lies hidden?" Wisely does the Sun make answer: "Well I know thy babe's dominions, Where thy holy child is sleeping, Where Wainola's light lies hidden; 'Tis thy child that me created, Made me king of earth and ether, Made the Moon and Stars attend me, Set me here to shine at midday, Makes me shine in silver raiment, Lets me sleep and rest at evening; Yonder is thy golden infant, There thy holy babe lies sleeping, Hidden to his belt in water, Hidden in the reeds and rushes." Mariatta, child of beauty, Virgin-mother of the Northland, Straightway seeks her babe in Swamp-land, Finds him in the reeds and rushes; Takes the young child on her bosom To the dwelling of her father. There the infant grew in beauty, Gathered strength, and light, and wisdom, All of Suomi saw and wondered. No one knew what name to give him; When the mother named him, Flower, Others named him, Son-of-Sorrow. When the virgin, Mariatta, Sought the priesthood to baptize him, Came an old man, Wirokannas, With a cup of holy water, Bringing to the babe his blessing; And the gray-beard spake as follows: "I shall not baptize a wizard, Shall not bless a black-magician With the drops of holy water; Let the young child be examined, Let us know that he is worthy, Lest he prove the son of witchcraft." Thereupon old Wirokannas Called the ancient Wainamoinen, The eternal wisdom-singer, To inspect the infant-wonder, To report him good or evil. Wainamoinen, old and faithful, Carefully the child examined, Gave this answer to his people: "Since the child is but an outcast, Born and cradled in a manger, Since the berry is his father; Let him lie upon the heather, Let him sleep among the rushes, Let him live upon the mountains; Take the young child to the marshes, Dash his head against the birch-tree." Then the child of Mariatta, Only two weeks old, made answer: "O, thou ancient Wainamoinen, Son of Folly and Injustice, Senseless hero of the Northland, Falsely hast thou rendered judgment. In thy years, for greater follies, Greater sins and misdemeanors, Thou wert not unjustly punished. In thy former years of trouble, When thou gavest thine own brother, For thy selfish life a ransom, Thus to save thee from destruction, Then thou wert not sent to Swamp-land To be murdered for thy follies. In thy former years of sorrow, When the beauteous Aino perished In the deep and boundless blue-sea, To escape thy persecutions, Then thou wert not evil-treated, Wert not banished by thy people." Thereupon old Wirokannas, Of the wilderness the ruler, Touched the child with holy water, Crave the wonder-babe his blessing, Gave him rights of royal heirship, Free to live and grow a hero, To become a mighty ruler, King and Master of Karyala. As the years passed Wainamoinen Recognized his waning powers, Empty-handed, heavy-hearted, Sang his farewell song to Northland, To the people of Wainola; Sang himself a boat of copper, Beautiful his bark of magic; At the helm sat the magician, Sat the ancient wisdom-singer. Westward, westward, sailed the hero O'er the blue-back of the waters, Singing as he left Wainola, This his plaintive song and echo: "Suns may rise and set in Suomi, Rise and set for generations, When the North will learn my teachings, Will recall my wisdom-sayings, Hungry for the true religion. Then will Suomi need my coming, Watch for me at dawn of morning, That I may bring back the Sampo, Bring anew the harp of joyance, Bring again the golden moonlight, Bring again the silver sunshine, Peace and plenty to the Northland." Thus the ancient Wainamoinen, In his copper-banded vessel, Left his tribe in Kalevala, Sailing o'er the rolling billows, Sailing through the azure vapors, Sailing through the dusk of evening, Sailing to the fiery sunset, To the higher-landed regions, To the lower verge of heaven; Quickly gained the far horizon, Gained the purple-colored harbor. There his bark be firmly anchored, Rested in his boat of copper; But he left his harp of magic, Left his songs and wisdom-sayings, To the lasting joy of Suomi. EPILOGUE. Now I end my measured singing, Bid my weary tongue keep silence, Leave my songs to other singers. Horses have their times of resting After many hours of labor; Even sickles will grow weary When they have been long at reaping; Waters seek a quiet haven After running long in rivers; Fire subsides and sinks in slumber At the dawning of the morning Therefore I should end my singing, As my song is growing weary, For the pleasure of the evening, For the joy of morn arising. Often I have heard it chanted, Often heard the words repeated: "Worthy cataracts and rivers Never empty all their waters." Thus the wise and worthy singer Sings not all his garnered wisdom; Better leave unsung some sayings Than to sing them out of season. Thus beginning, and thus ending, Do I roll up all my legends, Roll them in a ball for safety, In my memory arrange them, In their narrow place of resting, Lest the songs escape unheeded, While the lock is still unopened, While the teeth remain unparted, And the weary tongue is silent. Why should I sing other legends, Chant them in the glen and forest, Sing them on the hill and heather? Cold and still my golden mother Lies beneath the meadow, sleeping, Hears my ancient songs no longer, Cannot listen to my singing; Only will the forest listen, Sacred birches, sighing pine-trees, Junipers endowed with kindness, Alder-trees that love to bear me, With the aspens and the willows. When my loving mother left me, Young was I, and low of stature; Like the cuckoo of the forest, Like the thrush upon the heather, Like the lark I learned to twitter, Learned to sing my simple measures, Guided by a second mother, Stern and cold, without affection; Drove me helpless from my chamber To the wind-side of her dwelling, To the north-side of her cottage, Where the chilling winds in mercy Carried off the unprotected. As a lark I learned to wander, Wander as a lonely song-bird, Through the forests and the fenlands Quietly o'er hill and heather; Walked in pain about the marshes, Learned the songs of winds and waters, Learned the music of the ocean, And the echoes of the woodlands. Many men that live to murmur, Many women live to censure, Many speak with evil motives; Many they with wretched voices Curse me for my wretched singing, Blame my tongue for speaking wisdom, Call my ancient songs unworthy, Blame the songs and curse the singer. Be not thus, my worthy people, Blame me not for singing badly, Unpretending as a minstrel.

Never, did I not love this life, my endless teacher

I have never had the teaching,
Never lived with ancient heroes,
Never learned the tongues of strangers,
Never claimed to know much wisdom.

Others have had language-masters,
Nature was my only teacher,
Woods and waters my instructors.
Homeless, friendless, lone, and needy,
Save in childhood with my mother,
When beneath her painted rafters,
Where she twirled the flying spindle,
By the work-bench of my brother,
By the window of my sister,
In the cabin of my father,
In my early days of childhood.

Be this as it may, my people, This may point the way to others, To the singers better gifted, For the good of future ages, For the coming generations, For the rising folk of this world of endless beauty.

The Kalevala


Norse unknowns

Author(s), web adaptation and photography

Mike Koontz
Countless of Norse Unknowns
Compiled in Finnish, and minor writing by Elias Lönnrot
Translated by John Martin Crawford

To the daisy that is my sun and inspiration

   Author page, Michael A Koontz
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Last Few Published Books and Articles

  • Över skog och mark, järn & gym, och mylla. Den biologiska mångfaldens dag 2021.

    Quality time needed: 2 minutes

    A sustainable society makes for healthier & happier nature, and people.
    What is the science based outcome of your daily life choices?.

    Pressmeddelande 2021-05-12
    Den biologiska mångfaldens dag firas i Höga Kusten.

    En av Sveriges största naturhögtider går in på sitt femte år. Det blir återigen ett annorlunda firande av Biologiska mångfaldens dag 22 maj i år på grund av coronapandemin. Med anpassningar och digitala aktiviteter skapar Sveriges naturföreningar ett späckat program med allt från uppvisningar av vackra naturområden till tips om hur du gynnar biologisk mångfald i din trädgård. I Örnsköldvik, Höga Kusten arrangerar återigen ett bmfdag evenemang, för året så blir det i form av ett lokalt mini Styrka Camp på gym och i natur den 22 Maj.

    – Det är femte året i rad som Natursverige satsar på att uppmärksamma Biologiska mångfaldens dag och det tredje året som deltar.
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  • Fitness school, question 53: Let us talk about nonalcoholic fatty liver & cancer risk..

    Quality time needed: 1 minute

    A daily 20 minute walk outside essentially showers you in health promoting daylight.
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    Question number 53 in our School.
    And today it's time for a short, and to-the-point, and focused Fitness school question.
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  • Fitness school, question 52: The female menstrual cycle is a white water raft of hormonal changes over many days. But which ones jump up and down and what correlation might there be with stress?.

    Quality time needed: 2 minutes

    Enjoy a daily 20 minute walk and shower yourself in essential, health promoting daylight.
    What is the science based outcome of your daily life choices?.

    Question number 52 in our School.
    Health & fitness is created and maintained together. Feeding each other in this enduring, lifelong symbiosis no matter if our focus is our muscles strength, our heart health, cellular health, biological age, or the amount and size of our skeletal muscle mass,. Joint health and bone mass, hormonal functions, cardiovascular health, body fat levels, gut health, and even our brain are all intricately linked together.

    Fitness & health, body, and mind remain a perpetual cause and consequence system, where each individual aspect within our bodies affects and in turn, gets affected by all of the others in various degrees.

    In truth, a myriad of functions, which, individually, and as a whole, in turn, are shaped through our daily choices. Our surroundings, the type of food we eat, its nutrients, and the amount of those nutrients and their combined total.

    Environmental pollution, physical activity, sleep, relations, job, society, stress, et cetera.

    All combined, this is what determines the trajectory of our health and our fitness.

    And the menstrual cycle is, of course, no exception to this at all.
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    Read on beyond the break for fitness school question number 52.

  • Fitness school, question 51: Potatoes versus rice. Two healthy food staples in any healthy fit lifestyle. But, what more is there beyond their nutritional makeup, and why should you care?

    Quality time needed: 2 minutes

    We are choosing the direction of our fitness and health through our daily choices.
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    Question number 51 in our School.
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    But is healthy food habits really just about the nutrition our food constitutes and the health & fitness impact that nutrition carries with it?

    Some will say that this is all there is to our food choices, and plenty of good nutritional coaches do treat food and nutrition just like that. And that is an ok choice to do. Ok, but also lackluster in its view on the scientific ecosystem that is food and health, people and planet. Yes, as a personal trainer, and nutritional coach and Styrka Master coach mysef, I can not agree at all with that narrow, and incomplete view on health, nutrition and fitness.

    You see, eating healthy food is a staple in our personal fitness, and health, that is a given.
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    After all, if our personal food and lifestyle choices contribute to breaking the health of our entire planet, then we are unavoidably going to harm the health of ourselves since a healthy, sustainable society and planet is essential to the life long health and fitness progression of us all. As individuals, and a society.

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  • Fitness school, question 50: Can we see some sort of health impact betweeen obesity and corona?. Updated May 2021

    Quality time needed: 1 minute

    The direction of your fitness capacity is made through your daily choices.
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    Question number 50 in our School here at 'a Norse View'.
    An abundance of body fat sadly does not help with improving many health and fitness metrics in life for us mere mortals.
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  • Fitness school, question 49: Is a reduction of inflammation in our bodies one aspect of the many wonderful health improving outcomes of regular fitness?

    Quality time needed: 2 minutes

    Health is shaped and molded through your daily choices.
    Do you know the scientific outcome of your daily life?.

    Question number 49 in our School here at 'a Norse View'.
    Physical activity & fitness exercise of various levels, intensity, and volume improve many aspects of our human health. Including a highly beneficial effect on musculoskeletal health no matter gender or age.
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  • Fitness school, question 48.. Smoking kills millions of people every year, and harm hundreds of millions more.. But can the body recover from damaged lungs if you stop smoking?..

    Quality time needed: 2 minutes

    Health is shaped and molded through your daily choices.
    Do you know the scientific outcome of your daily life?.

    Question number 48 in School of Fitness here at 'a Norse View'.
    Most of the time our fitness school questions revolve around the scientific impact of your fitness and or food choices.
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  • Fitness school, question 47.. Can we still make the fact based claim that the core temperature of the modern day human body is 37c on average?... Or has this well established scientific fact actually changed in the last 100 years?.

    Quality time needed: 1 minute

    Health is made from your daily choices.
    Do you know the answer to our question?.

    Question number 47 in our School of Fitness.
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    Read on beyond the break and dig deeper into our fitness school question before you pony up the right answer.

  • The scientific correlation between our food choices environmental impact and bad human health.

    Quality time needed: 1 minute

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    And so is sustainability.

    So let us get it out of the way right away.
    Poor food choices remain a leading worldwide cause of mortality and bad health. But, poor food choices doesn't just harm our own health and longevity, bad food choices and the production that is needed to create the lackluster food that so many bases their entire food life on causes huge, unnecessary environmental degradation as well.

    So much so that the much needed (read essential to do) UN’s Sustainable Development Goals and the Paris Climate Agreement is virtually impossible to fulfill unless we, as a global species make the switch to healthier, plant-based food choices.
    This article will display how different food groups directly connect 5 health outcomes and 5 aspects of environmental degradation with each other.

  • Fitness school, question 46.. Can we make the fact based claim that visceral adipose mass is associated with increased risk of hypertension, heart attack/angina, type 2 diabetes and hyperlipidemia? Yes or no?.

    Quality time needed: 1 minute

    Health is made from your daily choices.
    Do you know the answer to our question?.

    Question number 46 in our School of Fitness.
    Is it true that visceral adipose mass is associated with increased risk of hypertension, heart attack/angina, type 2 diabetes, and hyperlipidemia?.
    And just exactly what is visceral adipose mass?

    Read on beyond the break and dig deeper into our fitness school question before you pony up the right answer.

  • Fitness school, question 45: Will increased or maintained fitness rejuvenate & improve hippocampal activity beyond 60 years of age?

    Quality time needed: 1 minute

    Health is made from your daily choices.
    Do you know the answer to our question?.

    Question number 45 in our School of Fitness.
    Most people know by now that healthy fit choices in the gym and the forest trail, at home and in daily life are nothing but a ticket towards increased health and life span, in body and mind.
    But, the health of our biological system is made up of near-endless processes and aspects. And that certainly applies to the state of our brain. Hence today's focus on our brains hippocampal capacity and health.

    Read on beyond the break and dig deep down in our fitness school question.

  • Available Fine Art & Lifestyle products. Art, design and photography by M & M. Our products are produced and sold by #Society6.

    Quality time needed: 8 minutes

    Your life is your on going art and history
    Contemporary art & products for a healthy fit life and planet.

    Each of us is the mere sum of our unique life choices, our thoughts, and way.
    Be it in person, or through the way we shape life around us. This uniqueness is evident even in our own persona, our style and life choices that takes place on this endless every day path that we call life.It is as such, ever-present in the way we build and shape the castle and life which we call our home.
    You can feel and see it, in the choices of your clothes, and other peoples fitness regime.
    It is persistent through our art choices and the way we train and live our very own healthy fit life.

    It is forever present inside our deeply individual thoughts, and it is perpetually stamped in the essence of our unique nature. Read on beyond the break and step into our lifestyle store where you can buy clothes and fine art and other lifestyle products, with art, design and photography by M & M.

  • Fitness school, question 44: What is the actual weight of one cm3 lean muscle mass, and will that weight per cm3 be able to also differ ever so minuscule between fit people and out of shape people (generally speaking that is).

    Quality time needed: 1 minute

    A healthy life is a daily process created by making healthy science based choices.
    Do you know the right answer?.

    Question number 44 in our School of Fitness.
    Time for a short and sweet little one.
    As stated in the subject line, lean muscle mass has another weight/density ratio than fat, so a body mass that is made up of more fat and less lean muscle mass will display a bigger mass at a lower body weight, while a body that has a greater amount of lean muscle mass will actually have a higher body weight compared to what its body mass might make you believe.

    Read on beyond the break and dwell deeper down into today's fitness school question.

  • Pressmeddelande: Biologiska mångfaldens dag 2019 tar en tur i naturen för en stund med naturfoto och fitness prat i Höga Kusten.

    Quality time needed: 1 minute

    a Norse View &
    Biologiska mångfaldens dag 2019, Höga Kusten, Sverige.

    Humlesafari, fladdermuslyssning, fjärilsbingo, krypletning och fågelvandring – den 22 maj uppmärksammas den internationella FN-dagen Biologiska mångfaldens dag med en mängd olika evenemang runt om i Sverige.

    Den årligen återkommande bmf dagen är numera en av Sveriges största naturhögtider och 2019 arrangerar naturorganisationer, kommuner, skolor, myndigheter,företag och privatpersoner över 200 aktiviteter runt om i landet, från Kiruna i norr till Ystad i söder. Det görs både för att visa upp vår artrika natur och för att uppmärksamma en av vår tids stora ödesfrågor – den oroväckande snabba förlusten av biologisk mångfald.

    I Höga Kusten arrangerar Mike från a Norse View och en dagstur ut i naturen där vi blandar naturfoto i en vacker insjömiljö och faktabaserat prat om kost, träning och hälsa.

  • Fitness school, question 42: Will maintained fitness reduce menstrual pain for the majority of women?

    Quality time needed: 1 minute

    Fitness is built upon the science of you.
    Do you know the right answer?.

    Question number 42 in our School of Fitness.
    Fitness has been established in scientific studies in the last few years as a health-improving daily life painkiller.
    Making it even better is the fact that it comes completely free of cost and nerve-wracking & time-consuming doctors appointment and unhealthy side-effects. Lowering pain and debilitating health issues such as arthritis while fortifying your lifespan and health.

    But is that tremendous gratis painkiller effect applicable to menstrual pain too?.

  • Wildlife Facts: Camelopardalis, 'The camel that could have been a leopard'.. What animal am I talking about right now?

    Quality time needed: 9 minutes




     Arctic Sunrise - Year 4.5 Billion
    The camel that could have been a leopard.


    One of planet Earth´s most unique land-living animals still roaming about in the wild also happens to be one of the cutest and most enchanting, and gentle colossuses that have ever existed. Yet, somehow, despite the towering size and unique characteristics of these majestic critters they are also one of the lesser talked about wildlife stars. And so it happens that by now they are like so many other species highly endangered without anyone really paying attention.

    But perhaps that is the reward that life gave these majestic beings that float across the land they call home as if they are majestic land dwelling whales. A backseat in the human consciousness as we proceeded to decimate their global population with 40 or so % in less than 30 years.

  • Fitness school, question 41: The science of our human fitness anatomy. Scalenus Anterior, medius and posterior.

    Quality time needed: 1 minute

    Fitness is built upon your own anatomy.
    Do you know the right answer?.

    Question number 41 in our School of Fitness.
    Beneath the tasty, delicious joy and sexiness of a life built on plant-based food and fitness, the weights you lift, the miles you walk and run. The mountains you climb, and the sandbags you punch and kick there is not just a burning passion and increased life quality. Nor is it just a question of the enhanced health and joy you can touch and feel deep inside both body & mind.
    No, there is also this marvelously progressive thing called science. Because all the physical fitness things, the sweat and healthy living discipline that others see are ultimately powered by the all-encompassing facts of biological life.

  • Fitness school, question 40: The science of sugar and intestine tumors... In both mice & men.

    Quality time needed: 8 minutes

    Yet another study on food & health.

    Looking at the impact of sugar in food and beverages.

    Sugar is a much beloved sweetener. Craved like a lovers touch by most biological beings that dare to ever look into the abyss and allow its tastebuds to grace this natural force of addiction.

    But as much as all things living seemingly enjoy the taste of sugar and more modern artificial sweeteners. Scientifically speaking the bad health impact of sugar ( from obesity to diabetes and cancer risk, poor dental health and non existing nutritional value ) and other sweeteners have thankfully turned countless of humans into die hard "no sugar" please sentinels. So let us take a brief look at a brand new 2019 study and let us find out if this study too will add even more reasons to say no to sugar and other sweeteners in your food and beverages.

  • Fitness school, question 39: Telomeres, the fancy sounding tail that connects healthy fit aging with fitness activities. Dive right in as we take a look at recent studies.

    Quality time needed: 13 minutes

    Fitness School
    Do you know the right answer?.

    Question number 39 in our School of Fitness.
    I have talked about telomeres in years past, and fitness too obviously :).
    But such is the world of fitness, science, and health, it often revisits old "truths" and sometimes upends them because our knowledge has deepened, while new studies at other times will simply fortify and acknowledge what we already knew to be true.
    So what will happen today as we travel back to the world of that peachy sounding telomeres thingy that keeps wiggling its cute little tail inside of us? Let us find out.
    My Question:.
    For this particular study, published in European Heart Journal, Nov 2018, we´ll uncover what happens to the length of our telomeres when we do long distance endurance training, high-intensity sprint intervals, nothing at all or lift weights in a so-so way in the gym ( yeah, color me unimpressed by the strength plan in this study, but hold on to that thought as you read on because I will get back to the fairly inadequate strength training and why that too matters. ).
    The question, which option is the best for maintaining the length of our telomeres and what is the worst?.

  • Anthropocene & the survival of our brilliant but simpleminded species. Just another morning.

    Quality time needed: 5 minutes

    Breakfast stuff and morning thoughts.

    climate inaction is an existential threat.

    Nothing fancy or big worded to say today, I am just drinking some tasty fresh black coffee while various death metal songs keep pumping through my livingroom gear.
    Yes, what a glorious morning :).
    But while I am enjoying my morning routine, getting ready for the gym and my own workouts as well as the health and fitness regimes of today's PT clients I am also reading up on science and sustainability from around the world. And one of the pieces that stand out is a tonally laid-back piece by Swedish outlet DN. They spent the better part of a month or so following Swedish sustainability advocate Greta as she continues her quest to bring much-needed awareness to the sad state of the world and the essential, deep-rooted changes we as a species and global civilization urgently need to undertake.

  • Fitness school, question 38. Is obesity itself tied to diabetes type 2 and coronary artery disease?. Yes or no?.

    Quality time needed: 5 minutes

    Fitness School
    Do you know the right answer?.

    Question number 38 in our School of Fitness.
    Time for a short one.
    Obesity is no friend of the bettering of our health and longevity.
    Just as how the old school act of serious bulking never did anyone's health and fitness levels any favors. And pointing this scientific reality out is not about fat shaming. It´s about helping the world and its individuals turn the tide toward better health, and better fitness. And doing so does not remove peoples individual right to pick whatever body size and fat percentage that they so prefer.
    My Question:.
    We already know that obesity ( and a fat powered high BMI ) increases unhealthy factors such as high blood pressure and high cholesterol. And it often increases depression, drowsiness and general sedentary choices. Which indirectly leads to worse health in numerous ways. But if a person with a high fat powered BMI is deemed healthy as far as those traditional markers are concerned is excess fat itself still bad?
    Put in another way, will a higher amount of excess body fat still lead to worse health even if your bloodwork turns out ok and you do not feel depressed and drowsy and you do hit the gym?.

  • Fitness school, question 37: Can something as simple as a reduction of daily walking decrease our lean muscle mass in a noticeable way in just 2 weeks time?

    Quality time needed: 8 minutes

    Fitness School
    Do you know the right answer?.

    Question number 37 in our School of Fitness.
    Yes, it is once again time for you to put your thinking cap on before you proceed without hesitation through the hallway of healthy fit wonders and science :).
    You already know that keeping fit and lifting your weekly weights and doing your daily cardio is nothing but a rejuvenating choice. It's good for your strength, duh.. It is wondrously good for your harty heart health, and it aids your cognitive and creative processes. It scientifically speaking lowers depression and tardy drowsiness. And if you have been keeping up with me over the years, you also know that keeping fit on a regular weekly basis also lowers your physical age by quite a noticeable margin too.
    But even small ordinary things like taking a daily walk carries with it a huge life long health and fitness impact.

    My Question:.
    What happens with our skeletal lean muscle mass for people above 70 years of age if they take a few thousand steps more or less per day for 2 weeks time?.
    Read on to reveal just how big the impact of that tiny change can be below the break.

  • Fitness School, Question 36, Will lifting weights 1-3 days per week be enough to lower cardiovascular related mortality?.

    Quality time needed: 3 minutes

    Fitness School
    Do you know the right answer?.

    Question number 36 in our School of Fitness.
    All forms of fitness activity is a tiny little pill of good health no matter who you are.
    But is the simple act of lifting weights one to three days per week enough to substantially lower the risk of cardiovascular related mortality?.
    Yup, that is how easy and straightforward question number 36 turned out to be. And why? Because we have a brand new study to lean back on when it comes down to the (obvious) answer.
    Read on to reveal the complete Q and A below the break.

  • Going beyond 1.5C. Our world and daily life behind the IPCC report.

    Quality time needed: 27 minutes

    Cause & Consequence.

    Life on Earth laid bare by the IPCC report.

    But before we head on over to the meaty real life data of our reckless modern day life, which the 2018 IPCC report painfully laid bare, walk with me as I step out on frosty cold northern shores for my morning walk.

    Just a Thursday, spent on northern shores.
    And this is the way I started this gorgeous little Autumn day.

  • Roundabouts in the milky way galaxy. The duality of a sustainable earth, and interplanetary living.

    Quality time needed: 14 minutes

    Walking through the gates of autumn.

    We see a brand new dawn.

    Life itself is this majestic mirror world of brilliance and incompetence. Eternally merging and reflected, individually disengaged yet perfectly synchronized and attached to each other and everything else.

    Like the leaf that finds itself stranded on the wayward peaks of a stormy ocean. They are each others counterpart, yet entirely different. Individual objects, entwined and interconnected. Disengaged and perfectly unique.

  • Into Autumn, the spider´s lullaby. Random thoughts on life from another gorgeous day.

    Quality time needed: 5 minutes

    Walking through the gates of autumn.

    Together with a tiny little spider.

    And today, there´s officially a full-blown Autumn song playing out there in nature. Gorgeous and sunny, on a Sunday =). Wind free, except for the tiniest of breeze that you can almost not see or feel as it slowly makes it way through the crown of leaves that towers above.

    But it is, none the less, Autumn.
    The colors of the trees reveal it. The pale blue September moon that hangs high up in the middle of the day is another telltale.

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