Kalevala, The Land of the Heroes, Volume Two. Anonymous

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       Back from Pohjola's great banquet. 80

      To her son then said the mother,

       And her child advised the old one,

       "Do not go, my son my dearest,

       O my dearest son, my Kauko,

       Go not to the feast at Pohja,

       To that mansion's drinking-party,

       For indeed they did not ask you,

       And 'tis plain they do not want you."

      Then the lively Lemminkainen

       Answered in the words which follow: 90

       "Only bad men go for asking;

       Uninvited good men dance there.

       There are always invitations,

       Always a sufficient summons,

       In the sword with blade of sharpness,

       And the edge so brightly flashing."

      Still did Lemminkainen's mother

       Do her utmost to restrain him.

       "Go not, son, to sure destruction,

       Unto Pohjola's great banquet. 100

       Full of terrors is thy journey,

       On thy way are mighty wonders,

       Thrice indeed doth death await thee;

       Thrice the man with death is threatened."

      Answered lively Lemminkainen,

       Said the handsome Kaukomieli,

       "Death is only for the women,

       Everywhere they see destruction;

       But a hero need not fear it,

       Nor need take extreme precautions. 110

       But let this be as it may be,

       Tell me that my ears may hear it,

       Tell me the first death that waits me,

       Tell the first and tell the last one."

      Then said Lemminkainen's mother,

       Answered then, the aged woman:

       "I will tell the deaths that wait you,

       Not as you would have me tell them;

       Of the first death I will tell you,

       And this death is first among them. 120

       When a little way you've travelled

       On the first day of your journey,

       You will reach a fiery river,

       Flaming right across your pathway,

       In the stream a cataract fiery,

       In the fall a fiery island,

       On the isle a peak all fiery,

       On the peak a fiery eagle,

       One who whets his beak at night-time, And his claws in daytime sharpens, 130 For the strangers who are coming, And the people who approach him."

      Answered lively Lemminkainen,

       Said the handsome Kaukomieli,

       "This is perhaps a death for women,

       But 'tis not a death for heroes.

       For I know a plan already,

       And a splendid scheme to follow.

       I'll create, by songs of magic,

       Both a man and horse of alder. 140

       They shall walk along beside me,

       And shall wander on before me,

       While I like a duck am diving,

       Like a scoter duck am diving,

       'Neath the soaring eagle's talons,

       Talons of the mighty eagle.

       O my mother, who hast borne me,

       Tell me now of death the second."

      Then said Lemminkainen's mother,

       "Such the second death that waits you: 150

       When a little way you've journeyed,

       On the second day of travel,

       You will reach a trench of fire,

       Right across the path extending,

       Ever to the east extending,

       North-west endlessly extending,

       Full of stones to redness heated,

       Full of blocks of stone all glowing,

       And a hundred there have ventured,

       And a thousand there have perished, 160

       Hundreds with their swords have perished,

       And a thousand steel-clad heroes."

      Answered lively Lemminkainen,

       Said the handsome Kaukomieli,

       "Such a death no man will perish,

       Nor is this a death for heroes,

       For I know a trick already,

       Know a trick, and see a refuge;

       And a man of snow I'll sing me,

       Make of frozen snow a hero, 170

       Push him in the raging fire,

       Push him in the glowing torment,

       Bathe him in the glowing bathroom,

       With a bath-whisk made of copper,

       I myself behind him pressing,

       Pushing through the fire a pathway,

       That my beard unburnt remaineth,

       And my locks escape a singeing.

       O my mother who hast borne me,

       Of the third death tell me truly." 180

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