Poem-a-Day

^{translated from the Finnish by John Martin Crawford}

Mastered by desire impulsive. 
By a mighty inward urging, 
I am ready now for singing, 
Ready to begin the chanting 
Of our nation’s ancient folk-song 
Handed down from by-gone ages. 
In my month the words are melting, 
From my lips the tones are gliding, 
From my tongue they wish to hasten; 
When my willing teeth are parted, 
When my ready mouth is opened, 
Songs of ancient wit and wisdom 
Hasten from me not unwilling.
Golden friend, and dearest brother. 
Brother dear of mine in childhood, 
Come and sing with me the stories, 
Come and chant with me the legends 
Legends of the times forgotten, 
Since we now are here together. 
Come together from our roamings. 
Seldom do we come for singing, 
Seldom to the one, the other, 
O’er this cold and cruel country, 
O’er the poor soil of the Northland
Let us clasp our hands together 
That we thus may best remember. 
Join we now in merry singing, 
Chant we now the oldest folk-hue, 
That the dear ones all may hear them, 
That the well-inclined may hear them. 
Of this rising generation. 
These are words in childhood taught me. 
Songs preserved from distant ages, 
Legends they that once were taken 
From the belt of Wainamoinen, 
From the forge of Ilraariuen, 
From the sword of Kaukomieli, 
From the bow of Youkahainen, 
From the pastures of the Northland, 
From the meads of Kalevala. 
These my dear old father sang me 
When at work with knife and hatchet; 
These my tender mother taught me 
When she twirled the flying spindle, 
When a child upon the matting 
By her feet I rolled and tumbled.