As she left the birchen woodland,
Trimly dressed in costly raiment,
And the minstrel thus addressed her: 
“Aino, beauty of the Northland,
Wear not, lovely maid, for others,
Only wear for me, sweet maiden,
Golden cross upon thy bosom,
Shining pearls upon thy shoulders;
Bind for me thine auburn tresses,
Wear for me thy golden braidlets.” 
Thus the maiden quickly answered: 
“Not for thee and not for others,
Hang I from my neck the crosslet,
Deck my hair with silken ribbons;
Need no more the many trinkets
Brought to me by ship or shallop;
Sooner wear the simplest raiment,
Feed upon the barley bread-crust,
Dwell forever with my mother
In the cabin with my father.” 
Then she threw the gold cross from her,
Tore the jewels from her fingers,
Quickly loosed her shining necklace,
Quick untied her silken ribbons,
Cast them all away indignant
Into forest ferns and flowers. 
Thereupon the maiden, Aino,
Hastened to her mother’s cottage. 
At the window sat her father
Whittling on an oaken ax-helve: 
“Wherefore weepest, beauteous Aino,
Aino, my beloved daughter? 
“Cause enough for weeping, father,
Good the reasons for my mourning,
This, the reason for my weeping,
This, the cause of all my sorrow: 
From my breast I tore the crosslet,
From my belt, the clasp of copper,
From my waist, the belt of silver,
Golden was my pretty crosslet.” 
Near the door-way sat her brother,
Carving out a birchen ox-bow: 
“Why art weeping, lovely Aino,
Aino, my devoted sister?”
“Cause enough for weeping, brother,
Good the reasons for my mourning
Therefore come I as thou seest,
Rings no longer on my fingers,
On my neck no pretty necklace;
Golden were the rings thou gavest,
And the necklace, pearls and silver!”
On the threshold sat her sister,
Weaving her a golden girdle: 
“Why art weeping, beauteous Aino,
Aino, my beloved sister?”
“Cause enough for weeping, sister,
Good the reasons for my sorrow: 
Therefore come I as thou seest,
On my head no scarlet fillet,
In my hair no braids of silver,
On mine arms no purple ribbons,
Round my neck no shining necklace,
On my breast no golden crosslet,
In mine ears no golden ear-rings.” 
Near the door-way of the dairy,
Skimming cream, sat Aino’s mother. 
“Why art weeping, lovely Aino,
Aino, my devoted daughter?”
Thus the sobbing maiden answered;
“Loving mother, all-forgiving,
Cause enough for this my weeping,
Good the reasons for my sorrow,
Therefore do I weep, dear mother: 
I have been within the forest,
Brooms to bind and shoots to gather,
There to pluck some birchen tassels;
Bound a bundle for my father,
Bound a second for my mother,
Bound a third one for my brother,
For my sister silken tassels. 
Straightway then I hastened homeward,