Tales From The 1000 Lakes

The islander slips into hiding
and takes to his heels
out of dark Northland
the murky house of Sara
he whirled out of doors as snow
arrives as smoke in the yard
to flee from bad deeds

There he has to become someone else
he must change his shape
as an eagle he swept up
wanted to soar heavenward
the sun burned his cheeks
the moon lit his brows

I have a good mind
take into my head
to start of singing
begin reciting

We seldom get together
and meet each other
on these poor borders
the luckless lands of the north

Those words we have got
from the North's furthest fields,
From the heaths of Kalevala

The mountains of North
shall erupt and flames
of darkland will raise
Hail to one who hails
Blood for one who bleeds

O you mistress of northland
queen of darkland
I may wash my hands of the
evil master's blood

For that is no man's doom
which I bring
that is child's doom
and it shall be the first doom

This is how the lucky feel
How the blessed think
Like daybreak in spring
The sun on a spring morning

But how do I feel
In my gloomy dephts?

Like the flat brink of a cloud
Like a dark night in autumn
A black winter day
No, darker than that
Gloomier than an autumn night

I went to wash at the shore
I went to bathe in the sea
and there I, a hen, was lost

I, a bird
untimely died
Let not my brother
ever in this world
water his war-horse
upon the seashore!

Waters of the sea
so much blood of mine
fishes of the sea
so much flesh of mine

Such the death of the young maid
end of the fair little hen