Wainamoinen, old and faithful,
Through the crevice looked and wondered. 
In the center of the pillar,
From a scarlet-colored basin,
Noxious serpents beer were drinking,
And the adders eating spices. 
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: 
“Therefore has Pohyola’s hostess
Little drink to give to strangers,
Since her beer is drank by serpents,
And her spices given to adders.” 
Quick he draws his magic fire-blade,
Cuts the vipers green in pieces,
Lops the heads off all the adders,
Speaks these words of master-magic: 
Thus, hereafter, let the serpent
Drink the famous beer of barley,
Feed upon the Northland-spices!”
Wainamoinen, the magician,
The eternal wizard-singer,
Sought to open wide the portals
With the hands and words of magic;
But his hands had lost their cunning,
And his magic gone to others. 
Thereupon the ancient minstrel
Quick returning, heavy-hearted,
To his native halls and hamlets,
Thus addressed his brother-heroes: 
“Woman, he without his weapons,
With no implements, a weakling! 
Sun and Moon have I discovered,
But I could not force the Portals
Leading to their rocky cavern
In the copper bearing mountain. 
Spake the reckless Lemminkainen
“O thou ancient Wainamoinen,
Why was I not taken with thee
To become, thy war-companion? 
Would have been of goodly service,
Would have drawn the bolts or broken,
All the portals to the cavern,
Where the Sun and Moon lie hidden
In the copper-bearing mountain!”
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
Thus replied to Lemminkainen: 
“Empty Words will break no portals,
Draw no bolts of any moment;
Locks and bolts are never broken. 
With the words of little wisdom! 
Greater means than thou commandest
Must be used to free the sunshine,
Free the moonlight from her dungeon.” 
Wainamoinen, not discouraged,
Hastened to the, forge and smithy,
Spake these words to Ilmarinen: 
“O thou famous metal-artist,
Forge for me a magic trident,
Forge from steel a dozen stout-rings,
Master-keys, a goodly number,
Iron bars and heavy hammers,
That the Sun we may uncover
In the copper-bearing mountain,
In the stone-berg of Pohyola.” 
Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
The eternal metal-worker,
Forged the needs of Wainamoinen,
Forged for him the magic trident,
Forged from steel a dozen stout-rings,
Master-keys a goodly number,
Iron bars and heavy hammers,
Not the largest, nor the smallest,
Forged them of the right dimensions. 
Louhi, hostess of Pohyola,
Northland’s old and toothless wizard,
Fastened wings upon her shoulders,
As an eagle, sailed the heavens,
Over field, and fen, and forest,
Over Pohya’s many, waters,
To the hamlets of Wainola,
To the forge of Ilmarinen. 
Quick the famous metal-worker
Went to see if winds were blowing;