Kalevala : the Epic Poem of Finland — Complete. Anonymous

Sank poor Aino to the bottom

       Of 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 colors

       Sank poor Aino to the bottom

       Of 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 colors

       Sank poor Aino to the bottom

       Of the deep and boundless blue-sea,

       Like a pretty song-bird perished.

       Never come to lave thine eyelids

       In this rolling wave and sea-foam,

       Never during all thy life-time,

       As thou lovest sister Aino.

       All the waters in the blue-sea

       Shall be blood of Aino's body;

       All the fish that swim these waters

       Shall be Aino's flesh forever;

       All the willows on the sea-side

       Shall be Aino's ribs hereafter;

       All the sea-grass on the margin

       Will have grown from Aino's tresses."

       Thus at last the maiden vanished,

       Thus the lovely Aino perished.

       Who will tell the cruel story,

       Who will bear the evil tidings

       To the cottage of her mother,

       Once the home of lovely Aino?

       Will the bear repeat the story,

       Tell the tidings to her mother?

       Nay, the bear must not be herald,

       He would slay the herds of cattle.

       Who then tell the cruel story,

       Who will bear the evil tidings

       To the cottage of her father,

       Once the home of lovely Aino?

       Shall the wolf repeat the story,

       Tell the sad news to her father?

       Nay, the wolf must not be herald,

       He would eat the gentle lambkins.

       Who then tell the cruel story,

       Who will bear the evil tidings.

       To the cottage of her sister?

       'Will the fox repeat the story

       Tell the tidings to her sister?

       Nay, the fox must not be herald,

       He would eat the ducks and chickens.

       Who then tell the cruel story,

       Who will bear the evil tidings

       To the cottage of her brother,

       Once the home of lovely Aino?

       Shall the hare repeat the story,

       Bear the sad news to her brother?

       Yea, the hare shall be the herald,

       Tell to all the cruel story.

       Thus the harmless hare makes answer:

       "I will bear the evil tidings

       To the former home of Aino,

       Tell the story to her kindred."

       Swiftly flew the long-eared herald,

       Like the winds be hastened onward,

       Galloped swift as flight of eagles;

       Neck awry he bounded forward

       Till he gained the wished-for cottage,

       Once the home of lovely Aino.

       Silent was the home, and vacant;

       So he hastened to the bath-house,

       Found therein a group of maidens,

       Working each upon a birch-broom.

       Sat the hare upon the threshold,

       And the maidens thus addressed him:

       "Hie e there, Long-legs, or we'll roast thee,

       Hie there, Big-eye, or we'll stew thee,

       Roast thee for our lady's breakfast,

       Stew thee for our master's dinner,

       Make of thee a meal for Aino,

       And her brother, Youkahainen!

       Better therefore thou shouldst gallop

       To thy burrow in the mountains,

       Than be roasted for our dinners."

       Then the haughty hare made answer,

       Chanting thus the fate of Aino:

       "Think ye not I journey hither,

       To be roasted in the skillet,

       To be stewed in yonder kettle

       Let fell Lempo fill thy tables!

       I have come with evil tidings,

       Come to tell the cruel story

       Of the flight and death of Aino,

       Sister dear of Youkahainen.

       With the stone of many colors

       Sank poor Aino to the bottom

       Of the deep and boundless waters,

       Like a pretty song-bird perished;

       Hung her ribbons on the aspen,

       Left her gold-cross on the sea-shore,

       Silken robes upon the alders,

       On the rocks her silken stockings,

       On the grass her shoes of deer-skin,

       In the sand her shining necklace,

       In the sand her rings and jewels;

       In the waves, the lovely Aino,

       Sleeping on the very bottom

       Of the deep and boundless blue-sea,

       In the caverns of the salmon,

       There to be the whiting's sister

       And the friend of nimble fishes."

       Sadly weeps the ancient mother

       From her blue-eyes bitter tear-drops,

       As in sad and wailing measures,

       Broken-hearted thus she answers:

       "Listen, all ye mothers, listen,

       Learn from me a tale of wisdom:

       Never urge unwilling daughters

       From the dwellings of their fathers,

       To the bridegrooms that they love not,

       Not as I, inhuman mother,