On the far outstretching waters,
In the salt-sea’s vast expanses,
Knowing only pain and trouble! 
Better far for me, O Ukko! 
Were I maiden in the Ether,
Than within these ocean-spaces,
To become a water-mother! 
All this life is cold and dreary,
Painful here is every motion,
As I linger in the waters,
As I wander through the ocean. 
Ukko, thou O God, up yonder,
Thou the ruler of the heavens,
Come thou hither, thou art needed,
Come thou hither, I implore thee,
To deliver me from trouble,
To deliver me in travail. 
Come I pray thee, hither hasten,
Hasten more that thou art needed,
Haste and help this helpless maiden!”
When she ceased her supplications,
Scarce a moment onward passes,
Ere a beauteous duck descending,
Hastens toward the water-mother,
Comes a-flying hither, thither,
Seeks herself a place for nesting. 
Flies she eastward, flies she westward,
Circles northward, circles southward,
Cannot find a grassy hillock,
Not the smallest bit of verdure;
Cannot find a spot protected,
Cannot find a place befitting,
Where to make her nest in safety. 
Flying slowly, looking round her,
She descries no place for resting,
Thinking loud and long debating,
And her words are such as follow: 
“Build I in the winds my dwelling,
On the floods my place of nesting? 
Surely would the winds destroy it,
Far away the waves would wash it.” 
Then the daughter of the Ether,
Now the hapless water-mother,
Raised her shoulders out of water,
Raised her knees above the ocean,
That the duck might build her dwelling,
Build her nesting-place in safety. 
Thereupon the duck in beauty,
Flying slowly, looking round her,
Spies the shoulders of the maiden,
Sees the knees of Ether’s daughter,
Now the hapless water-mother,
Thinks them to be grassy hillocks,
On the blue back of the ocean. 
Thence she flies and hovers slowly,
Lightly on the knee she settles,
Finds a nesting-place befitting,
Where to lay her eggs in safety. 
Here she builds her humble dwelling,
Lays her eggs within, at pleasure,
Six, the golden eggs she lays there,
Then a seventh, an egg of iron;
Sits upon her eggs to hatch them,
Quickly warms them on the knee-cap
Of the hapless water-mother;
Hatches one day, then a second,
Then a third day sits and hatches. 
Warmer grows the water round her,
Warmer is her bed in ocean,
While her knee with fire is kindled,
And her shoulders too are burning,
Fire in every vein is coursing. 
Quick the maiden moves her shoulders,
Shakes her members in succession,
Shakes the nest from its foundation,
And the eggs fall into ocean,
Dash in pieces on the bottom
Of the deep and boundless waters. 
In the sand they do not perish,
Not the pieces in the ocean;
But transformed, in wondrous beauty