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

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isbn: 4057664191410

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       Till he reached the blue-sea's margin,

       Wetting not the hoofs in running.

       But the evil Youkahainen

       Nursed a grudge within his bosom,

       In his heart the worm of envy,

       Envy of this Wainamoinen,

       Of this wonderful enchanter.

       He prepares a cruel cross-bow,

       Made of steel and other metals,

       Paints the bow in many colors,

       Molds the top-piece out or copper,

       Trims his bow with snowy silver,

       Gold he uses too in trimming,

       Then he hunts for strongest sinews,

       Finds them in the stag of Hisi,

       Interweaves the flax of Lempo.

       Ready is the cruel cross-bow,

       String, and shaft, and ends are finished,

       Beautiful the bow and mighty,

       Surely cost it not a trifle;

       On the back a painted courser,

       On each end a colt of beauty,

       Near the curve a maiden sleeping

       Near the notch a hare is bounding,

       Wonderful the bow thus fashioned;

       Cuts some arrows for his quiver,

       Covers them with finest feathers,

       From the oak the shafts be fashions,

       Makes the tips of keenest metal.

       As the rods and points are finished,

       Then he feathers well his arrows

       From the plumage of the swallow,

       From the wing-quills of the sparrow;

       Hardens well his feathered arrows,

       And imparts to each new virtues,

       Steeps them in the blood of serpents,

       In the virus of the adder.

       Ready now are all his arrows,

       Ready strung, his cruel cross-bow.

       Waiting for wise Wainamoinen.

       Youkahainen, Lapland's minstrel,

       Waits a long time, is not weary,

       Hopes to spy the ancient singer;

       Spies at day-dawn, spies at evening,

       Spies he ceaselessly at noontide,

       Lies in wait for the magician,

       Waits, and watches, as in envy;

       Sits he at the open window,

       Stands behind the hedge, and watches

       In the foot-path waits, and listens,

       Spies along the balks of meadows;

       On his back he hangs his quiver,

       In his quiver, feathered arrows

       Dipped in virus of the viper,

       On his arm the mighty cross-bow,

       Waits, and watches, and unwearied,

       Listens from the boat-house window,

       Lingers at the end of Fog-point,

       By the river flowing seaward,

       Near the holy stream and whirlpool,

       Near the sacred river's fire-fall.

       Finally the Lapland minstrel,

       Youkahainen of Pohyola,

       At the breaking of the day-dawn,

       At the early hour of morning,

       Fixed his gaze upon the North-east,

       Turned his eyes upon the sunrise,

       Saw a black cloud on the ocean,

       Something blue upon the waters,

       And soliloquized as follows:

       "Are those clouds on the horizon,

       Or perchance the dawn of morning?

       Neither clouds on the horizon,

       Nor the dawning of the morning;

       It is ancient Wainamoinen,

       The renowned and wise enchanter,

       Riding on his way to Northland;

       On his steed, the royal racer,

       Magic courser of Wainola."

       Quickly now young Youkahainen,

       Lapland's vain and evil minstrel,

       Filled with envy, grasps his cross-bow,

       Makes his bow and arrows ready

       For the death of Wainamoinen.

       Quick his aged mother asked him,

       Spake these words to Youkahainen:

       "For whose slaughter is thy cross-bow,

       For whose heart thy poisoned arrows?"

       Youkahainen thus made answer:

       "I have made this mighty cross-bow,

       Fashioned bow and poisoned arrows

       For the death of Wainamoinen,

       Thus to slay the friend of waters;

       I must shoot the old magician,

       The eternal bard and hero,

       Through the heart, and through the liver,

       Through the head, and through the shoulders,

       With this bow and feathered arrows

       Thus destroy my rival minstrel."

       Then the aged mother answered,

       СКАЧАТЬ