“Now the time has come for parting
From my father’s golden firesides,
From my brother’s welcome hearth-stone,
From the chambers of my sister,
From my mother’s happy dwelling;
Now I leave the swamps and lowlands,
Leave the grassy vales and mountains,
Leave the crystal lakes and rivers,
Leave the shores and sandy shallows,
Leave the white-capped surging billows,
Where the maidens swim and linger,
Where the mermaids sing and frolic;
Leave the swamps to those that wander,
Leave the corn-fields to the plowman,
Leave the forests to the weary,
Leave the heather to the rover,
Leave the copses to the stranger,
Leave the alleys to the beggar,
Leave the court-yards to the rambler,
Leave the portals to the servant,
Leave the matting to the sweeper,
Leave the highways to the roebuck,
Leave the woodland-glens to lynxes,
Leave the lowlands to the wild-geese,
And the birch-tree to the cuckoo. 
Now I leave these friends of childhood,
Journey southward with my husband,
To the arms of Night and Winter,
O’er the ice-grown seas of Northland. 
“Should I once again, returning,
Pay a visit to my tribe-folk,
Mother would not hear me calling,
Father would not see me weeping,
Calling at my mother’s grave-stone,
’Weeping o’er my buried father,
On their graves the fragrant flowers,
Junipers and mournful willows,
Verdure from my mother’s tresses,
From the gray-beard of my father. 
“Should I visit Sariola,
Visit once again these borders,
No one here would bid me welcome. 
Nothing in these hills would greet me,
Save perchance a few things only,
By the fence a clump of osiers,
And a land-mark at the corner,
Which in early youth I planted,
When a child of little stature. 
“Mother’s kine perhaps will know me,
Which so often I have watered,
Which I oft have fed and tended,
Lowing now at my departure,
In the pasture cold and cheerless;
Sure my mother’s kine will welcome
Northland’s daughter home returning. 
Father’s steeds may not forget me,
Steeds that I have often ridden,
When a maiden free and happy,
Neighing now for me departing,
In the pasture of my brother,
In the stable of my father;
Sure my father’s steeds will know me,
Bid Pohyola’s daughter welcome. 
Brother’s faithful dogs may know me,
That I oft have fed and petted,
Dogs that I have taught to frolic,
That now mourn for me departing,
In their kennels in the court-yard,
In their kennels cold and cheerless;
Sure my brother’s dogs will welcome
Pohya’s daughter home returning. 
But the people will not know me,
When I come these scenes to visit,
Though the fords remain as ever,
Though unchanged remain the rivers,
Though untouched the flaxen fish-nets
On the shores await my coming. 
“Fare thou well, my dear old homestead,