Home > Author > Elias Lönnrot
1 " Once to swim I sought the sea-side,There to sport among the billows;With the stone of many colorsSank poor Aino to the bottomOf the deep and boundless blue-sea,Like a pretty son-bird, perished.Never come a-fishing, father,To the borders of these waters,Never during all thy life-time,As thou lovest daughter Aino.Mother dear, I sought the sea-side,There to sport among the billows;With the stone of many colors,Sank poor Aino to the bottomOf the deep and boundless blue-sea,Like a pretty song-bird perished.Never mix thy bread, dear mother,With the blue-sea's foam and waters,Never during all thy life-time,As thou lovest daughter Aino.Brother dear, I sought the sea-side,There to sport among the billows;With the stone of many colorsSank poor Aino to the bottomOf the deep and boundless blue-sea,Like a pretty song-bird perished.Never bring thy prancing war-horse,Never bring thy royal racer,Never bring thy steeds to water,To the borders of the blue-sea,Never during all thy life-time,As thou lovest sister Aino.Sister dear, I sought the sea-side,There to sport among the billows;With the stone of many colorsSank poor Aino to the bottomOf the deep and boundless blue-sea,Like a pretty song-bird perished.Never come to lave thine eyelidsIn this rolling wave and sea-foam,Never during all thy life-time,As thou lovest sister Aino.All the waters in the blue-seaShall be blood of Aino's body;All the fish that swim these watersShall be Aino's flesh forever;All the willows on the sea-sideShall be Aino's ribs hereafter;All the sea-grass on the marginWill have grown from Aino's tresses. "
― Elias Lönnrot , The Kalevala
2 " For this I weep all my daysand throughout my lifetime grievethat I swam from my own landsand came from familiar lands towards these strange doors to these foreign gates. "
3 " Words shall not be hidnor spells buriedmight shall not sink undergroundthough the mighty go. "
4 " Craftsman Ilmarinen weptEvery evening for his woman,Weeping sleepless through the nightsAnd fasting through the days;In the early hours complaining,Every morning sighing for her, Lamenting for his lovely lost one,For his dear one in the grave.For a month he swung no hammer,Did not touch the copper handle,and the clinking forge was silent.Said the craftsman Ilmarinen:"I poor fellow, do not knowHow to live or how survive;Sitting up or lying downNights are long and time is tedious.I am troubled, low in spirit.'Lonely are the nights now,lonelyAnd the mornings dreary, dreary.In my sleeping I am troubled,But the waking is the saddest.It's not for evening that I'm lonely,Not for morning that I'm dreary,Not for olden times lamenting,But I'm lonely for my loved one,Dreary for the missing of her,Lamenting for my dark-browed lovely.'Often in these days it happens,Happens in my midnight dreamingthat I stretch my hand out touching,touching something that is nothing... "
5 " Tiny bee, thou honey-birdling, Lord of all the forest flowers, Fly away and gather honey, Bring to me the forest-sweetness, "
6 " Broke the tassels from the birch-trees, Steeped the foliage in honey, Made a lye from milk and ashes, Made of these a strong decoction, Mixed it with the fat and marrow Of the reindeer of the mountains, Made a soap of magic virtue, "
7 " Det var slutet för den unge, så gick Kullervo ur tiden, denne olycksfödde yngling, för att aldrig återkomma. /.../Eftervärld, låt aldrig barnet uppfostras av onda viljor, vyssjas av förvända mänskor, vaggas fel av obekanta.Den som en gång fostrats galet, vyssjas bakvänt, vaggas illa, han blir aldrig som han borde, "