"About Kalevala
Such brings to my mind another old tale: that the world, our lives, are in fact in a Lapplandish "kota" tent made of reindeer skin, and the fire in the middle of the tent has burned small holes to the tent: so are born stars. So it is at the same time somehow comforting, warm, more like life in it's original form that is good to live and better for feelings than physics etc, and less exact, kind of in another language, in another way to look at things, yet something to learn from.
In the beginning of Kalevale there is a piece somewhat like " I wish to sing a hymn about the spirit of our relatives/family, to produce a hymn about our specie's instinctual wisdom..."
My translation from the beginning:
"Kalevala
I would like to,
I think with my brain
to start to sing,
to set my words,
to produce a song about the spirit of our family,
a hymn about the instinctual wisdom of our species.
Words melt into my mouth,
talk drops from my mouth by itself,
hurries to my tongue,
shatters to my teeths.
Dear bother, my fellow,
my beautiful comrade whom I was raised with!
Start to sing with me,
set your words with me,
since we have now met
after having been apart!
Rarely we see each other,
meet each other
on these poor outskirts,
poor northern lands.
Let us set hand in hand,
fingers between fingers,
to sing well,
to produce our best,
for to hear those golden ones,
for t know liked ones,
in the young raising up,
in the growing people:
found words,
tuned hymns
from the belt of old sage Väinämöinen,
from thebuff of smith Ilmarinen,
far away from pale Kaukomieli,
fromJoukahainen's bow's way,
from the farest reachest of the fields of North,
from the lands of Kalevala.
Those sung my papa
while making woodworks;
those taught my mom
while making clothes,
me as a kid on the floor
running around at the level of their knees,
as young kid with a milk beard (mouth dirty from milk).
Sampo money making machine did not lack words,
neither did witch woman Louhi lack threads:
Sampo got old from words,
Louhi disappeared in threads,
Vipunen the competitor died of religious songs,
Lemminkäinen soldier to playful games.
There are also other words,
problems I have learned to solve:
taken from the roadside,
copied from the beauty of the undergrowth,
gotten strenght from the style of fallen tree branches,
leraned from the atmosphere of young tree plants,
from everyday life labour,
from everyday problems solved,
as I was herding cattle
as a kid all the days,
on honey ground,
on golden hills,
after a black cow Muurikki, ("muuri" = wall, "murha" = murder, "murhe" = sorrow, "muu" = other, "-kki" a typical ending in cows' names, "rikki" = broken)
with a multicolour Kimmo cow. ("kimmota" = to bounce from)
Shivering with cold I learned with the help of religion, / Shivering from cold taught me wisdom about ways of living,
the beauty of rain taught me poems.
Another hymn was brought by the winds,
and driven by the waves of the sea.
Bird song joined words together,
tree tops formed sentences.""
http://finnishskills.blogspot.fi/2016/09/about-kalevala.html
I did not quite well understand the following part, but now one and half years later I tried to translate it too:
"Those I tied to a bunch,
fitted to a very airy sphere.
Put the sphere t my sledge,
took it along in my sledge,
took it to my home,
by sledge to my tool shelter,
put it there to the upper storey,
to a metallic pot.
For the week was my hymn in cool,
long time in longing.
Do I pull from the cool the hymns,
shovel songs from freezing,
bring to the living room my can,
the pot to the top of a small chair,
under the famous upmost roof tree trunk,
under a beautiful roof,
open my chest of words,
tune my locked box of hymns,
open the front end of the bunch,
straughten the knot from the round bunch?
So I will sing a good hymn,
hammer a beautiful one too,
by dark wheat food,
by wheaty ale.
Since they don't seem to be bringing me ale,
not offering me needed refreshing drink,
I will sing with a thinner mouth, (rising to meet the situation with skills generally needed in life) (But with eating less, bearing weathers, being without drinking and other questions handled via wisdom in one's ways of living, it is important to know the challenge beforehand, be prepared for it, arrange one's life so that the challenge does not disturb one's life, at least not much.)
from the cold breaze in feet in the room I come to your side,
to bring joy to this evening,
for the honour of this famous day,
or for the fun of tomorrow,
for to begin a new morning.
"
And so begins the Tale:
"
*
So I heard said,
knew a hymn about things to be done:
when we are alone come the nights,
when we are alone lighten the days;
alone was born the sage Väinämöinen,
appeared the poet for forever
from a slender bearer,
from the Maiden of the Air.
There was a young woman, daughter of the air,
woman envying the nature, as if decorated.
Kept on the weeks holiness,
forever womanliness
on the long yards of the air,
on the evenly travelled grounds.
Got bored of her time there,
it made her feel alienated from her life,
to be always alone,
living as a young woman
on the long yards of the air,
spacy, without any people there.
Already stepped lower,
to the waves,
to the clear open space of the sea.
There came a short strong wind,
from the east angry weather;
lifted the sea to bubbles,
splashed it to waves.
The wind was a lullaby for the young maiden,
waves drove the woman
around the blue sea,
it's hat headed waves:
wind blew her with womb,
the sea made pregnant.
Carried a hard womb,
a difficult stomach
for seven (hundred?) years,
for nine times the age of a man;
but the childbirth is not coming yet,
the baby is not yet created.
The woman rolled as water's mother.
Swam eastern places, and swam western places,
swam north-western, sotuhern,
swam all costs of the air
in pain of the firery birth
in stomach trouble;
but the chilbirth is not yet coming,
the baby is not yet created.
Cried humming;
said a word, this way named:
"Oh poor, my days,
poor child, my travel!
I have already come to some place:
for all my age to under the air,
to be lullabied by the wind,
to be driven by the waves
on these spacious waters,
on the topof the waves!
It would have been better
to live as a woman of the air,
tha nowadays roll as a mother of the waters:
I shiver from cold here,
it is a burden tp be here in the cold,
to live in the waves,
to roll in the water.
"Oh Old Man, upmost god,
carrier of all air!
Come here when needed,
come here when called!
Let help worker girl from trouble,
woman from stomach cramps!
Come quickly, to the space in between,
to the more spacious needed1"
A small time elapsed,
cried a little.
Came ancient duck, straight bird;
flew slowly flapping it's wings
trying to find a place for it's nest,
guessing at the place to live in.
Flew eastern places,flew western places,
flew north-western places, southern places.
Does not find that room,
not even in worst places,
to which it would make it's nest,
take it's site to live in.
Glides, flies,
guesses, thinks:
"Will I make my house to the air,
to the waves my home?
The wind will fall my house,
the waves will carry away my home."
Just then the mother of the water,
mother of the water, air's young woman,
lifted her knee from the sea,
back bone from the waves
for ancient duck to build it's nest in,
for it's living ground loved.
This ancient duck, bird slender as if decorated,
glides, flies.
Noticed the knee of water's mother
on the bluish open sea;
thought it was grass,
fresh humus.
Flies, glides,
sets itself on top of the knee.
There makes it's nest,
makes it's golden eggs:
six golden eggs,
the seventh one an iron egg. (Six loved, eggs of happiness, the seventh of rationality to make them all of good quality and so strong and enduring.)
"
That was about giving birth. And the following is about the origins of the world.
"Began to lay on the eggs,
warm the top of the knee.
Warmed a day, warmed another,
warmed soon a third day.
Already from that mother of the waters,
water's mother, air's young woman,
felt firery,
her skin transforming to coal like;
thought her knee was burning,
all her veins melting.
Shaked her knee,
her limbs were shaken:
eggs rolled to the water,
to the waves of the sea they got driven;
the eggs were brokento pieces,
broken to pieces.
It aren't a good place for the eggs to be in mud,
for pieces to be in the middle of water.
The pieces changed to good ones,
pieces to beautiful ones:
lower half of the egg
to be mother ground,
egg's upper half
to be sky above;
upper half of brownish
to be the day shining,
upper part of white,
that to be the moon shining;
what there was colourful in the egg,
that to be stars in the sky,
what there was blackish in the egg,
those to be clouds of the air.
Timen pass,
years go further
while new day is shining,
new moon is shining.
Always swiums the mother of the waters
water's mother, woman of the air,
on thise slight waters,
misty waves,
in her front watery water,
behind her sky clear.
Aaalready on the ninth year,
on the tenth summer
lift her head from the sea,
lifted her eagle.
Started to create her creations,
achieve what she had gotten,
on the clear open space of the sea,
won the wide space on the sea.
Where turned her hand,
to that place tidied the headlands of the shore;
where touched the bottom with her feet,
dug deeps for the fishes there;
where caused bubbles,
to there lowered deepest places.
Her sides touhed the earth,
to there straight even shores;
her feet touched the earth:
to there created lax fishing spots;
her head touched theshore:
to there put bays.
Swam further away from the shore,
stopped at the open sea:
creates stony small islands to the sea,
secret places
for the ships to get stuck in,
for the death of sailors.
"
"There were islands tidied,
created stony little islands to the sea,
corners of the air poked,
lands and continents said,
written to stones the books,
drawn lines to rocky ground.
Not yet is Väinämöinen born,
appear the poet for forever.
"
"Steady old Väinämöinen
travelled in her mother's womb
thirty summers,
once as many winters too,
on these atmospheric waters,
on misty waves.
Guesses, thinks,
how to be, how to live
in his dark hiding place,
in a living place that has not enough room,
where he never could see the moon
and not notice the day.
Said with that word,
uttered with that sentence:
"Moon, stio already, day, let me go,
star figure, still teach
a man from strange doors,
unkown gates,
from these small nests,
from too narrow palces lived in!
Walk with traveller to the ground,
to the air the child of human,
to look at the moon of the sky,
to feel the day on one's skin,
to learn from the star figure,
to gaze at the stars!"
Since the moon did not stop
and the day did not let him go,
he felt alienated about hiw time,
in pain about his life:
moved the gate of a castle
by the not named finger,
from a bony lock slipped
by left toe;
came by grasping with nails from by the door,
on his knees from the door of the hall.
From there falled to the sea mouth first,
with hands turned to the wave;
and so the man is left carried by the sea,
soldier like man in the middle of waves.
Was there for five years,
both five and six,
seven years, eight.
Stopped at the open space of the sea at last,
to a headland not named,
to a continent without trees.
By his knees rose from the ground,
by his hands turned.
Rose to see the moon,
to feel teh day on his skin,
to learn from the star figure,
to gaze at the stars.
That was the birth of Väinämöinen,
race of brave poet
from a thin bearer,
from maiden of the air mother."
End of the first poem of Kalevala
