“Wilt thou run with aid of oarsmen
When the south-winds give assistance,
Guided by a skillful pilot?”
This the answer of the war-ship: 
“Quickly can I course these waters,
When my oars are manned by rowers,
When my sails are filled with south-winds,
All my goodly brother-vessels
Sail the ocean with assistance,
When the master holds the rudder.” 
Then the ancient Wainamoinen
Left the racer on the sea-side,
Tied him to the sacred birch-tree,
Hung the harness on a willow,
Rolled the vessel to the waters,
Sang the ship upon the broad-sea,
Asked the boat this simple question: 
“O thou vessel, well-appearing
From the mighty oak constructed,
Art thou strong to carry treasures
As in view thou art commanding? 
Thus the goodly ship made answer: 
“Strong am I to carry treasures,
In my hull a golden cargo;
I can bear a hundred oarsmen,
And of warriors a thousand.” 
Wainamoinen, the magician,
Then began his wondrous singing. 
On one side the magic vessel,
Sang he youth with golden virtues,
Bearded youth with strength of heroes,
Sang them into mail of copper. 
On the other side the vessel,
Sang he silver-tinselled maidens,
Girded them with belts of copper,
Golden rings upon their fingers. 
Sings again the great magician,
Fills the magic ship with heroes,
Ancient heroes, brave and mighty;
Sings them into narrow limits,
Since the young men came before them. 
At the helm himself be seated,
Near the last beam of the vessel,
Steered his goodly boat in joyance,
Thus addressed the willing war-ship: 
“Glide upon the trackless waters,
Sail away, my ship of magic,
Sail across the waves before thee,
Speed thou like a dancing bubble,
Like a flower upon the billows!”
Then the ancient Wainamoinen
Set the young men to the rowing,
Let the maidens sit in waiting. 
Eagerly the youthful heroes
Bend the oars and try the row-locks,
But the distance is not lessened. 
Then the minstrel, Wainamoinen,
Set the maidens to the rowing,
Let the young men rest in waiting. 
Eagerly the merry maidens
Bend the aspen-oars in rowing,
But the distance is not lessened. 
Then the master, Wainamoinen,
Set the old men to the rowing,
Let the youth remain in waiting. 
Lustily the aged heroes
Bend and try the oars of aspen,
But the distance is not lessened. 
Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Grasped the oars with master-magic,
And the boat leaped o’er the surges,
Swiftly sped across the billows;
Far and wide the oars resounded,
Quickly was the distance lessened. 
With a rush and roar of waters
Ilmarinen sped his vessel,
Benches, ribs, and row-locks creaking,
Oars of aspen far resounding;
Flap the sails like wings of moor-cocks,
And the prow dips like a white-swan;
In the rear it croaks like ravens,