Sings a song, and joins the frame-work;
Sings a second, sets the siding;
Sings a third time, sets the row-locks;
Fashions oars, and ribs, and rudder,
Joins the sides and ribs together. 
When the ribs were firmly fastened,
When the sides were tightly jointed,
Then alas! three words were wanting,
Lost the words of master-magic,
How to fasten in the ledges,
How the stern should be completed,
How complete the boat’s forecastle. 
Then the ancient Wainamoinen,
Wise and wonderful enchanter,
Heavy-hearted spake as follows: 
“Woe is me, my life hard-fated! 
Never will this magic vessel
Pass in safety o’er the water,
Never ride the rough sea-billows.” 
Then he thought and long considered,
Where to find these words of magic,
Find the lost-words of the Master: 
“From the brains of countless swallows,
From the heads of swans in dying,
From the plumage of the gray-duck?”
For these words the hero searches,
Kills of swans a goodly number,
Kills a flock of fattened gray-duck,
Kills of swallows countless numbers,
Cannot find the words of magic,
Not the lost-words of the Master. 
Wainamoinen, wisdom-singer,
Still reflected and debated: 
“I perchance may find the lost-words
On the tongue of summer-reindeer,
In the mouth of the white squirrel.” 
Now again he hunts the lost-words,
Hastes to find the magic sayings,
Kills a countless host of reindeer,
Kills a rafterful of squirrels,
Finds of words a goodly number,
But they are of little value,
Cannot find the magic lost-word. 
Long he thought and well considered: 
“I can find of words a hundred
In the dwellings of Tuoni,
In the Manala fields and castles.” 
Wainamoinen quickly journeys
To the kingdom of Tuoni,
There to find the ancient wisdom,
There to learn the secret doctrine;
Hastens on through fen and forest,
Over meads and over marshes,
Through the ever-rising woodlands,
Journeys one week through the brambles,
And a second through the hazels,
Through the junipers the third week,
When appear Tuoni’s islands,
And the Manala fields and castles. 
Wainamoinen, brave and ancient,
Calls aloud in tones of thunder,
To the Tuonela deeps and dungeons,
And to Manala’s magic castle: 
“Bring a boat, Tuoni’s daughter,
Bring a ferry-boat, O maiden,
That may bear me o’er this channel,
O’er this black and fatal river.” 
Quick the daughter of Tuoni,
Magic maid of little stature,
Tiny virgin of Manala,
Tiny washer of the linen,
Tiny cleaner of the dresses,
At the river of Tuoni,
In Manala’s ancient castles,
Speaks these words to Wainamoinen,
Gives this answer to his calling: 
“Straightway will I bring the row-boat,
When the reasons thou hast given
Why thou comest to Manala
In a hale and active body.” 
Wainamoinen, old and artful.,