Kokko (English)

Tuulilta tuleva / Coming from the winds

As I set out to seek the moon,
to capture the glowing sunlight,
My turn still lay far in the future,
I was dreaming of tomorrow.
All I ask is a single friend,
A companion by my side,
It makes no difference where he’s from,
from land or sea or mountain.
For where’er he is, this friend of mine,
Wherever he is roaming,
The waves will grow calm at my command,
The spray sink into silence.
These are the winds that will bear him to me,
These skies will be watching o’er him.
Wherever he is roaming,
Wherever my treasure lies hidden.
Fly hither, little bird on high,
Come hither, my feathered friend.
To this nameless headland lonely,
To my wordless island here.
I would sing a pretty ditty,
Say it in smoother words,
If only I had a sweetheart listening,
A dear one nestling by my side.

 

Kokko / Bonfire

I can hear the wind approaching,
From the open sea afar.
I can hear the wind approaching,
From the open sea afar.
But the wind brought something with it,
Riding o’er the open sea.
But the wind brought something with it,
Riding o’er the open sea.
Came an eagle, soaring upwards,
Settled high upon the roof
Came a hawk, gliding downwards,
Gazed from high upon the birches.
Flew the bird, its great wings beating,
To the tip of a dying tree.
Left the heath for craggy rock peaks,
With a mighty rush of air.
Flew the eagle across the forest,
As pure as the driven snow,
Setting the little woodhen in turmoil,
Conjuring our treasure forth.
I was born to soar on high,
To travel into distant lands,
But the wind carried me afar,
On this side of the north wind.
Came an eagle, soaring upwards …
Flew the bird, its great wings beating …
Oh, the wind will bring another,
Left by the waves upon the shore.
Oh, the wind will bring another,
Left by the waves upon the shore.
If I can cast off my sorrows,
Leave behind my woe and grief.
If I can cast off my sorrows,
Leave behind my woe and grief.
Who would have guessed, who could have known it
At about this time last year?
Who would have guessed, who would have thought it
At about this time last year?

 

Ottajat / Takers

A little bird flew to the window,
Born along on wings of white,
There it sat, and there it sang.
What should it sing about, when should it sing,
What should it tell about the morrow,
What lies in store for this young girl?
There she walks like a flower in the forest,
The evenings the bird spends on her window sill,
The mornings perched on the door of her bower.
Two things she seemed to long for,
A third was often on her mind,
Filling her thoughts from dawn till dusk.
Someone to fetch her from her door,
from her door.
Someone to fetch her from her door,
from her door.
Someone to warm himself at her hearth,
To walk with her through the lanes and alleys,
To linger awhile, to keep her company.
Suitors there are many
Strong and upright,
Noble and good.
Making their way to the little yard,
Treading the path to the lowly farmhouse,
Bearing rings with which to woo.
Fly closer, my little bird,
Bring comforting news to the lonely girl,
As she sits there, all alone and waiting.

 

Korppi / Raven

What has broken your mighty voice,
What has ravaged your calling
That once flowed like a mighty river,
Gushing down towards the sea?
Summer has come for the swifts and swallows,
Dawn risen on the sparrow’s nest,
Bringing joy to feathered fledglings,
Causing birds on boughs to sing.
But I, poor creature, sing with sorrow,
In a croaky, creaky voice,
Please, bird, come and take my longing
Black and with a heavy heart.
What has broken your mighty voice…
What has ravaged your calling
That once flowed like a mighty river,
Gushing down towards the sea?
Take my sorrows, dearest raven,
Black and with a heavy heart,
Fly them to a distant treetop,
Leave them on a lofty twig.
But I, poor creature, sing with sorrow…
I would sing were I but able,
Were I safe at home again,
Chorus like the birds in springtime,
Giving tongue like summer birds.
I would sing were I but able,
Were I safe at home again.
Singing like the breeze-bent rushes,
A flower in all my finery

 

Halla / Frost

Maiden up there in the clouds,
Commensurate with the stars,
Come down to me, speed to my side,
Please come a little faster.
All around is gloom and doom,
A groaning, moaning, sighing.
Won’t you come down and look around,
Dispel the misery on the ground?
Here we toil at our daily round,
For times are cruel and bitter.
The men lament, the women weep,
In sorrow and despair.
Rise up, sun, from beneath the cloud,
and melt the sorrow with summer,
Spread your rays o’er the frozen landscape,
and chase the chill away.
Knowing how cold it was on earth,
Travelling the roads and byways,
Where to find the humble gatepost,
And the freezing farmhouse threshold.
A cloud rose in the northwest,
A cold wind blew from the northeast,
All the way from the frozen wastes,
Bringing with it icy cold.
Here we toil at our daily round …
Rise up, sun, from beneath the cloud …
Here she comes from lands afar,
Treading on from a distance,
To put an end to our misery,
To break the spell upon us.
Come and take our cares away,
Make us strong and healthy,
Put an end to our pain and torment,
And take away our sorrows.

 

Iro

Oh, how iro
Oh, how iro
The girl from the furthest house,
The maid from over beyond.
She was born in the distant forest
In the furthest of the houses,
In the furthest of the houses,
The houses, yo-no.
Shrouded was her birth in sorrow,
Her teacher the bitter school of life,
Her teacher the bitter school of life,
School of life, yo-no.
No charmer was this young iro,
Ugly was her countenance,
Life left ugly scars upon her,
Sorrow gave her arms their strength.
Soon were gone the days of childhood,
Childish games were left behind,
Soon were gone the days of childhood,
Days of childhood, yo-no.
Soon ’twas time to seek a husband,
Find a man to call her own,
Find a man to call her own,
Call her own, yo-no.
She believed she’d find a husband.
Marry a farmer tall and fair,
Take him to her bed beside her,
iro daughter for to bear.
Oh, how iro
Oh, how iro
The girl from the furthest house,
The maid from over beyond.
Off she went to seek a husband,
Find a man to wed and bed,
Find a man to wed and bed,
Wed and bed, no-yo.
One week hither, second thither,
And a third she sought in vain,
And a third she sought in vain,
Sought in vain, yo-no.
But she never found a husband,
Farmer fair to wed and bed.
Gone her hopes of iro daughters,
No more chance of iro babes.

 

Merten kosijat / Suitors of seas

Rising early in the morning,
Lingering late upon the eve,
Delicate flower, little fledgling,
Little dove of hearth and home.
Out she went into the forest,
To the rapids running wild,
Sat upon a freckled rock,
Stood upon a spray-washed stone.
Summer came and went in weeping,
Waiting for a lover dear,
For a sweetheart for to woo her,
For to take her for his own.
From the sea a man of iron,
Iron his head and iron his feet,
In his hand an iron purse,
In his purse an iron ring.
I’ll not have you, I’ll not wed you,
Not for you my mother bore me,
Not for you my father raised me,
To be the bride of a man of iron.
Out she went into the forest …
Summer came and went in weeping …
From the sea a man of brass
Brass his head and brass his feet,
In his hand a brass purse
In his purse a brass ring.
I’ll not have you, I’ll not wed you,
Not for you my mother bore me,
Not for you my father raised me,
To be the bride of a man of brass.
Forest bridegroom, lusty suitor,
Towering above the trees,
Took his steed from out the stable,
Leapt onto his fiery foal.
Rode a furlong and another,
In his chariot of iron,
Off to woo the handsome maiden,
Seek the hand of damsel fair.
Forest bridegroom, lusty suitor,
Many seek my hand in marriage,
You have come to claim your own.
Rising early in the morning …
Out she went into the forest …
In vain she waited for her lover,
For a sweetheart for to woo her,
For to take her for his own.
Waiting for a lover dear,
I’ll not have him, I’ll not wed him,
Not for him my mother bore me,
Not for him my father raised me,
To be the bride of a man at all.

 

Omani / My own dear one

There’s no sign of my own sweetheart,
Is no sight and is no sound.
Far away is my beloved,
Far from here, not by my side.
Is no sound of my beloved
Is no sight and is no sound,
He’s a-roving far from home,
Roaming through the fields and forests,
A-roaming, roving.
My sweetheart he’s in distant lands,
Roaming, roving far from home,
And I cannot hear his footstep,
‘Neath my window, in the lane.
There’s no sight of my own sweetheart,
Is no sight and is no sound.
Oh if only I could see him,
Oh were he to come to me
Far and beyond,
Remote in the distance,
A month away
Or maybe five weeks,
A-roaming, roving.
I dreamt that he was holding me closely,
Holding me warmly in his arms,
Now I find he’s far and distant,
Miles away, my own dear one.

 

Pojaton / A sonless maid

No child was I destined to bear,
‘Twas not my fate at all.
No child was I destined to bear,
‘Twas not my fate at all.
Putting me in the family way,
Giving me a baby to cradle.
Other girls have a babe to rock,
To gently rock to sleep,
Oh woe is me, a sonless maid,
Oh woe is me, poor misfortune.
Not for me did the Lord create
a little one in my image.
No little dear one all my own has
the Lord in his goodness promised.
Other girls have a babe to rock.
To gently rock to sleep,
Oh woe is me, a sonless maid,
Oh woe is me, poor misfortune.

 

Emoni ennen / My mother

Thus she sang
Thus sang my mother
Mothered me in the olden days
Thus sang my mother
Thus she sang in the olden days.
Thus she sang
Thus sang my mother
My mother before
Thus sang my mother
My mother before
Thus sang my mother before
My mother before
My mother before.
Sing, lass, while still a child
Sing for you are still a child
Rocking gently,
Gently rocking.
Sing, lass, while still a child
Sing for you are still a child,
Rock and sing, rock and sing.
Safe at home among your own folk
On your father’s lands and farm.
Soon ’twill be time to find a husband
Enter husband’s house and home.
Safe at home among your own folk
On your father’s lands and farm
Soon to enter husband’s home.
Sing, lass, while still a child,
With not a care in the world.
Leave all your worries until later
In your husband’s house and home.
Join with me and sing for me
For I am tired and weary
And what is more, those boys do
not deserve a song.
Thus sang my mother …
Have no care about the morrow,
Put aside your cares and woes,
Enjoy yourself while still a girl
Maiden tender,
Dwell not on the morrow,
Put aside your cares and woes,
Enjoy yourself, enjoy your youth.

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