"Twas the fair maid of the North
the Land's famous, water's choice
sat on the sky's collar bow
upon heaven's arch
shimmered in clean clothes
and in white garments;
cloth of gold she is weaving
of silver she is working
from a gold shuttle
with a silver reed.
The shuttle whizzed in her grasp
in her hand the spool swivelled
the heddles of copper creaked
the silver reed slammed
as the maid wove cloth
worked cloth of silver.

Steady old Vainamoinen
is rumbling along
out of dark Northland
from dreary Sariola.
He drove a bit of a way
a tiny way he traced, when
he heard a shuttle buzzing
up above his head.
glances heavenward:
the arch is fair in thesky
the maid at the arch's edge;
cloth of gold she is weaving
of silver she is tinkling.
Steady old Vainamoinen
stopped his horse at once
and he put this into words
he declared, spoke thus:
'Come maid into my
sleigh, step down into my sledge!

The maid put this into words
she declared and asks:
'Why get a maid into your
sleigh, a girl into your sledge?'

Steady old Vainamoinen
well, he answered that:
'Why get a maid into my
sleigh, a girl into my sledge?
that she may bake honey-bread
know how to brew beer
sing on every bench
rejoice at every window
on those farms of Vaino-land
in those Kalevala yards.'

The maid put this into words
she declared, chattered: 'As i
walked on the maddery ground
skipped upon the yellow heath
yesterday at evening late
as the sun was going down
a bird carolled in a grove
a fieldfare twittered -
carolled how daughters feel, sand
how a daughter-in-law feels.
I made to say this
and to ask the bird:
'Little fieldfare, sing
that my ears may hear:
whose lot is better
and whose more highly thought of -
a daughter's in a father's house, or a
daughter-in-law in a husband's house?
Well, the tomtit informed me
the fieldfare twittered:
'Bright a summer day
but a maid's state is brighter;
chilly is iron in frost
chillier a daughter-in-law's state.
A maid in father's house is
like a berry on good land;
daughter-in-law in a husband's house
is like a dog on a chain.
Seldom is a serf cherished;
a daughter-in-law never.'

. . .

He called the maid into his
sleigh, the girl into his sledge.

The maid skilfully answers
and says with this word:
'Well, I'd marry one
who could carve a boat
out of bits of my spindle
from pieces of my drawknife
who could launch the boat
and the new ship on the waves
his knee not nudging
his fist not touching
his arm not turning
his shoulder not reaching out.'

At that old Vainamoinen
put this into words:
'Not on earth, not in the world
not under all the sky's vault
is there such a boatbuilder
a carver the likes of me.

He took bits of the distaff
whorls of the spindle
set about carving a boat
building a hundred-planked one
on a steel mountain
on an iron cliff.
Rashly he carved at the boat
the wooden craft recklessly;
he carved one day, he carved two
soon he carved a third as well:
the axe does not touch the rock
nor the blade tip strike the cliff.

So on the third day
the Demon swung the handle
round, the Devil wrenched the blade
the Evil One jogged the haft:
into the rock the axe went
and the blade tip struck the cliff
and the axe bounced off the rock
and the blade slid into the flesh
in the worthy boy's knee
into Vainamoinen's toe."