Sampo
Astern old Väinämöinen sat,
casting waves aside.
Ilmarinen rowed the foremost oars,
Lemminkäinen rowed the back.
North they drove to Sariola,
to the Northlands cold.
In the cabins Lady Pohjola
as they came asked the question,
"What news brings you hitherward
to the Northlands cold?"
"To share the Sampo brings us here,
the bright-covered plenty-mill."
Then said Louhi, Lady Pohjola,
"Some things are best not shared.
It is well the Sampo churns
here in the Northland, making plenty,
good that it is my own."
Louhi rose, raised the Northland,
strong men with piercing spears,
but Väinämöinen played kantele,
music of long-lost winter days.
He sang of wives, flame-lit halls,
of children singing for the sun.
The young men laughed, then wept;
then Väinämöinen with his song
set all the Northland-men to sleep.
In a bright hall of solid copper,
by nine locks guarded,
behind a gate of iron hidden,
Väinämöinen found its light,
the bright-covered plenty-mill.
Ilmarinen made the hinges hush,
Väinämöinen sang them open,
Lemminkäinen sought to lift it.
Nine fathoms deep its iron root,
nine deep fathoms held it tightly
in the Northlands cold.
Then Lemminkäinen on the farmlands
found the greatest Northland ox.
He plowed the roots, deeply down,
made the Sampo swivel,
then lifted it with mighty strength.
Väinämöinen, Lemminkäinen,
Ilmarinen, they took their prize
aboard their ship and sailed away.
Astern old Väinämöinen sat,
casting the waves aside.
Ilmarinen rowed the foremost oars,
Lemminkäinen rowed the back.
South they drove from Sariola,
from the Northlands cold.
