Wainamoinen, the magician,
O’er the blue backs of the billows,
Steered one day, and then a second,
Steered the third from morn till even,
When the wizard, Lemminkainen,
Once again addressed the master: 
“Why wilt thou, O famous minstrel,
Sing no longer for thy people,
Since the Sampo thou hast captured,
Captured too the lid in colors?”
These the words of Wainamoinen: 
“’Tis not well to sing too early! 
Time enough for songs of joyance
When we see our home-land mansions,
When our journeyings have ended!”
Spake the reckless Lemminkainen: 
“At the helm, if I were sitting,
I would sing at morn and evening,
Though my voice has little sweetness;
Since thy songs are not forthcoming
Listen to my wondrous singing!”
Thereupon wild Lemminkainen,
Handsome hero, Kaukomieli,
Raised his voice above the waters,
O’er the sea his song resounded;
But his measures were discordant,
And his notes were harsh and frightful. 
Sang the wizard, Lemminkainen,
Screeched the reckless Kaukomieli,
Till the mighty war-ship trembled;
Far and wide was heard his singing,
Heard his songs upon the waters,
Heard within the seventh village,
Heard beyond the seven oceans. 
Sat a crane within the rushes,
On a hillock clothed in verdure,
And the crane his toes was counting;
Suddenly he heard the singing
Of the wizard, Lemminkainen;
And the bird was justly frightened
At the songs of the magician. 
Then with horrid voice, and screeching,
Flew the crane across the broad-sea
To the lakes of Sariola,
O’er Pohyola’s hills and hamlets,
Screeching, screaming, over Northland,
Till the people of the darkness
Were awakened from their slumbers. 
Louhi hastens to her hurdles,
Hastens to her droves of cattle,
Hastens also to her garners,
Counts her herds, inspects her store-house;
Undisturbed she finds her treasures. 
Quick she journeys to the entrance
To the copper-bearing mountain,
Speaks these words as she approaches: 
“Woe is me, my life hard-fated,
Woe to Louhi, broken-hearted! 
Here the tracks of the destroyers,
All my locks and bolts are broken
By the hands of cruel strangers! 
Broken are my iron hinges,
Open stand the mountain-portals
Leading to the Northland-treasure. 
Has Pohyola lost her Sampo?”
Then she hastened to the chambers
Where the Sampo had been grinding;
But she found the chambers empty,
Lid and Sampo gone to others,
From the stone-berg of Pohyola,
From behind nine locks of copper,
In the copper-bearing mountain. 
Louhi, hostess of the Northland,
Angry grew and cried for vengeance;
As she found her fame departing,
Found her-strength fast disappearing,
Thus addressed the sea-fog virgin: 
“Daughter of the morning-vapors,
Sift thy fogs from distant cloud-land,
Sift the thick air from the heavens,