Leave his pleasant Island-dwelling,
Journey from this home of ages;
Men are sharpening their broadswords,
Sharpening their spears and lances,
For the death of Lemminkainen.” 
Then again the mother questioned,
Hurriedly she asked the reason: 
“Why the men their swords were whetting,
Why their spears are being sharpened.” 
Spake the reckless Lemminkainen,
Handsome hero, Kaukomieli: 
“Therefore do they whet their broadswords,
Therefore sharpen they their lances: 
It is for thy son’s destruction,
At his heart are aimed their lances. 
In the court-yard of Pohyola,
There arose a great contention,
Fierce the battle waged against me;
But I slew the Northland hero,
Killed the host of Sariola;
Quick to arms rose Louhi’s people,
All the spears and swords of Northland
Were directed at thy hero;
All of Pohya turned against me,
Turned against a single foeman.” 
This the answer of the mother: 
“I had told thee this beforehand,
I had warned thee of this danger,
And forbidden thee to journey
To the hostile fields of Northland. 
Here my hero could have lingered,
Passed his life in full contentment,
Lived forever with his mother,
With his mother for protection,
In the court-yard with his kindred;
Here no war would have arisen,
No contention would have followed. 
Whither wilt thou go, my hero,
Whither will my loved one hasten,
To escape thy fierce pursuers,
To escape from thy misdoings,
From thy sins to bide in safety,
From thy crimes and misdemeanors,
That thy head be not endangered,
That thy body be not mangled,
That thy locks be not outrooted?”
Spake the reckless Lemminkainen: 
“Know I not a spot befitting,
Do not know a place of safety,
Where to hide from my pursuers,
That will give me sure protection
From the crimes by me committed. 
Helpful mother of my being,
Where to flee wilt thou advise me?”
This the answer of the mother: 
“I do not know where I can send thee;
Be a pine-tree on the mountain,
Or a juniper in lowlands? 
Then misfortune may befall thee;
Often is the mountain pine-tree
Cut in splints for candle-lighters;
And the juniper is often
Peeled for fence-posts for the pastures. 
Go a birch-tree to the valleys,
Or an elm-tree to the glenwood? 
Even then may trouble find thee,
Misery may overtake thee;
Often is the lowland birch-tree
Cut to pieces in the ware-house;
Often is the elm-wood forest
Cleared away for other plantings. 
Be a berry on the highlands,
Cranberry upon the heather,
Strawberry upon the mountains,
Blackberry along the fences? 
Even there will trouble find thee,
There misfortune overtake thee,
For the berry-maids would pluck thee,
Silver-tinselled girls would get thee. 
Be a pike then in the ocean,
Or a troutlet in the rivers?