Kalevala : the Epic Poem of Finland — Complete. Anonymous
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Название: Kalevala : the Epic Poem of Finland — Complete

Автор: Anonymous

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

Серия:

isbn: 4057664191410

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ Grasped the cloud, and hurled it earthward.

       Quick the rain-cloud drops her honey,

       Quick the rain-drops fall from heaven,

       That the ears may quickly ripen,

       That the barley crop may rustle.

       Straightway grow the seeds of barley,

       From the germ the blade unfolding,

       Richly colored ears arising,

       From the rich soil of the fallow,

       From the work of Wainamoinen.

       Here a few days pass unnoted

       And as many nights fly over.

       When the seventh day had journeyed,

       On the morning of the eighth day,

       Wainamoinen, wise and ancient,

       Went to view his crop of barley,

       How his plowing, how his sowing,

       How his labors were resulting;

       Found his crop of barley growing,

       Found the blades were triple-knotted,

       And the ears he found six-sided.

       Wainamoinen, old and trusty,

       Turned his face, and looked about him,

       Lo! there comes a spring-time cuckoo,

       Spying out the slender birch-tree,

       Rests upon it, sweetly singing:

       "Wherefore is the silver birch-tree

       Left unharmed of all the forest? "

       Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:

       "Therefore I have left the birch-tree,

       Left the birch-tree only growing,

       Home for thee for joyful singing.

       Call thou here, O sweet-voiced cuckoo,

       Sing thou here from throat of velvet,

       Sing thou here with voice of silver,

       Sing the cuckoo's golden flute-notes;

       Call at morning, call at evening,

       Call within the hour of noontide,

       For the better growth of forests,

       For the ripening of the barley,

       For the richness of, the Northland,

       For the joy of Kalevala."

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,

       Passed his years in full contentment,

       On the meadows of Wainola,

       On the plains of Kalevala,

       Singing ever wondrous legends,

       Songs of ancient wit and wisdom,

       Chanting one day, then a second,

       Singing in the dusk of evening,

       Singing till the dawn of morning,

       Now the tales of old-time heroes,

       Tales of ages long forgotten,

       Now the legends of creation,

       Once familiar to the children,

       By our children sung no longer,

       Sung in part by many heroes,

       In these mournful days of evil,

       Evil days our race befallen.

       Far and wide the story travelled,

       Far away men spread the knowledge

       Of the chanting of the hero,

       Of the song of Wainamoinen;

       To the South were heard the echoes,

       All of Northland heard the story.

       Far away in dismal Northland,

       Lived the singer, Youkahainen,

       Lapland's young and reckless minstrel,

       Once upon a time when feasting,

       Dining with his friends and fellows,

       Came upon his ears the story

       That there lived a sweeter singer,

       On the meadows of Wainola,

       On the plains of Kalevala,

       Better skilled in chanting legends,

       Better skilled than Youkahainen,

       Better than the one that taught him.

       Straightway then the bard grew angry,

       Envy rose within his bosom,

       Envy of this Wainamoinen,

       Famed to be a sweeter singer;

       Hastes he angry to his mother,

       To his mother, full of wisdom,

       Vows that he will southward hasten,

       Hie him southward and betake him

       To the dwellings of Wainola,

       To the cabins of the Northland,

       There as bard to vie in battle,

       With the famous Wainamoinen.

       "Nay," replies the anxious father,

       "Do not go to Kalevala."

       "Nay," replies the fearful mother,

       "Go not hence to Wainamoinen,

       СКАЧАТЬ