All thy worry to the copses,
All thy weeping to the willows,
All thy sighing to the lindens,
All thy thinking to the aspens
And the birches on the mountains,
Light and airy as the leaflet,
As a butterfly in summer,
Ruddy as a mountain-berry,
Beautiful as vernal flowers. 
“Now thou leavest home and kindred,
Wanderest to other firesides,
Goest to another mother,
Other sisters, other brothers,
Goest to a second father,
To the servant-folk of strangers,
From thy native hills and lowlands. 
There and here the homes will differ,
Happier thy mother’s hearth-stone;
Other horns will there be sounded,
Other portals there swing open,
Other hinges there be creaking;
There the doors thou canst not enter
Like the daughters of Wainola,
Canst not tend the fires and ovens
As will please the minds of strangers. 
“Didst thou think, my fairest maiden,
Thou couldst wed and on the morrow
Couldst return, if thou shouldst wish it,
To thy father’s court and dwelling? 
Not for one, nor two, nor three days,
Wilt thou leave thy mother’s chambers,
Leave thy sisters and thy brothers,
Leave thy father’s hills and lowlands. 
Long the time the wife must wander,
Many months and years must wander,
Work, and struggle, all her life long,
Even though the mother liveth. 
Great, indeed, must be the changes
When thou comest back to Pohya,
Changed, thy friends and nearest kindred,
Changed, thy father’s ancient dwellings,
Changed, the valleys and the mountains,
Other birds will sing thy praises!”
When the mother thus had spoken,
Then the daughter spake, departing: 
“In my early days of childhood
Often I intoned these measures: 
’Art a virgin, yet no virgin,
Guided by an aged mother,
In a brother’s fields and forests,
In the mansion of a father! 
Only wilt become a virgin,
Only when thou hast a suitor,
Only when thou wedst a hero,
One foot on the father’s threshold,
And the other for the snow-sledge
That will speed thee and thy husband
To his native vales and highlands!’
“I have wished thus many summers,
Sang it often in my childhood,
Hoped for this as for the flowers,
Welcome as the birds of spring-time. 
Thus fulfilled are all my wishes,
Very near is my departure,
One foot on my father’s threshold,
And the, other for the journey
With my husband to his people;
Cannot understand the reason
That has changed my former feelings,
Cannot leave thee now with gladness,
Cannot go with great rejoicing
From my dear, old home and kindred,
Where as maiden I have lingered,
From the courts where I was nurtured,
From my father’s band and guidance,
From my faithful mother’s counsel. 
Now I go, a maid of sorrow,
Heavy-hearted to the bridegroom,
Like the bride of Night in winter,
Like the ice upon the rivers.