Wainamoinen, ancient singer,
Long reflecting, spake these measures: 
“Dear Wellamo, water-hostess,
Ancient mother with the reed-breast,
Come, exchange thy water-raiment,
Change thy coat of reeds and rushes
For the garments I shall give thee,
Light sea-foam, thine inner vesture,
And thine outer, moss and sea-grass,
Fashioned by the wind’s fair daughters,
Woven by the flood’s sweet maidens;
I will give thee linen vestments
Spun from flax of softest fiber,
Woven by the Moon’s white virgins,
Fashioned by the Sun’s bright daughters
Fitting raiment for Wellamo! 
“Ahto, king of all the waters,
Ruler of a thousand grottoes,
Take a pole of seven fathoms,
Search with this the deepest waters,
Rummage well the lowest bottoms;
Stir up all the reeds and sea-weeds,
Hither drive a school of gray-pike,
Drive them to our magic fish-net,
From the haunts in pike abounding,
From the caverns, and the trout-holes,
From the whirlpools of the deep-sea,
From the bottomless abysses,
Where the sunshine never enters,
Where the moonlight never visits,
And the sands are never troubled.” 
Rose a pigmy from the waters,
From the floods a little hero,
Riding on a rolling billow,
And the pigmy spake these measures: 
“Dost thou wish a worthy helper,
One to use the pole and frighten
Pike and salmon to thy fish-nets?”
Wainamoinen, old and faithful,
Answered thus the lake-born hero: 
“Yea, we need a worthy helper,
One to hold the pole, and frighten
Pike and salmon to our fish-nets.” 
Thereupon the water-pigmy
Cut a linden from the border,
Spake these words to Wainamoinen: 
“Shall I scare with all my powers,
With the forces of my being,
As thou needest shall I scare them?”
Spake the minstrel, Wainamoinen: 
“If thou scarest as is needed,
Thou wilt scare with all thy forces,
With the strength of thy dominions.” 
Then began the pigmy-hero,
To affright the deep-sea-dwellers;
Drove the fish in countless numbers
To the net of the magicians. 
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
Drew his net along the waters,
Drew it with his ropes of flax-thread,
Spake these words of magic import: 
“Come ye fish of Northland waters
To the regions of my fish-net,
As my hundred meshes lower.” 
Then the net was drawn and fastened,
Many were the gray-pike taken
By he master and magician. 
Wainamoinen, happy-hearted,
Hastened to a neighboring island,
To a blue-point in the waters,
Near a red-bridge on the headland;
Landed there his draught of fishes,
Cast the pike upon the sea-shore,
And the Fire-pike was among them,
Cast the others to the waters. 
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: 
“May I touch thee with my fingers,
Using not my gloves of iron,
Using not my blue-stone mittens? 
This the Sun-child hears and answers: