I will not love the night-lord,
nor marry the harried moon,
whose work is always pressing,
whose rising is too soon.
I will not love the sun-king;
his fire I cherish not;
he blights the land with drought
when his passions wax too hot.
But the star I take as lover
for he shines with gentle light;
his eyes are kind and loving
and steady through the night.
Starry youth and Salme
shall have nuptials sublime
and waltz on Harria's shores
until the end of time.
The blue flower blooms in the realm of Tapio,
where the tree-roots deeper than any mountain's grow
and the forest-tops are marching like the sea,
an endless and everlasting sea,
and the mead-paws dance in fields untouched by snow
where flowers bloom whose names nobody knows
on a hill whose name nobody knows.