Friday, September 9, 2016

About Kalevala

The Finnish national ephos Kalevala, a collection of old poems, has a profound touch in the form of myths like stories. It connects good quality thinking with a deeper, more profound, much more ages old, more fractureless way to look at things, like the nature and the elements maybe offer to one who understands such deeply.
Such brings to my mind another old tale: that the world, our lives, are in fact in a Lapplandish "kota" tent made of reindeer skin, and the fire in the middle of the tent has burned small holes to the tent: so are born stars. So it is at the same time somehow comforting, warm, more like life in it's original form that is good to live and better for feelings than physics etc, and less exact, kind of in another language, in another way to look at things, yet something to learn from.
In the beginning of Kalevale there is a piece somewhat like " I wish to sing a hymn about the spirit of our relatives/family, to produce a hymn about our specie's instinctual wisdom..."



My translation from the beginning:



"Kalevala


I would like to,
I think with my brain
to start to sing,
to set my words,
 to produce a song about the spirit of our family,
a hymn about the instinctual wisdom of our species.
Words melt into my mouth,
talk drops from my mouth by itself,
hurries to my tongue,
shatters to my teeths.

Dear bother, my fellow,
my beautiful comrade whom I was raised with!
Start to sing with me,
set your words with me,
since we have now met
after having been apart!
Rarely we see each other,
meet each other
on these poor outskirts,
poor northern lands.

Let us set hand in hand,
fingers between fingers,
to sing well,
to produce our best,
for to hear those golden ones,
for t know liked ones,
in the young raising up,
in the growing people:
found words,
tuned hymns
from the belt of old sage Väinämöinen,
from thebuff of smith Ilmarinen,
far away from pale Kaukomieli,
fromJoukahainen's bow's way,
from the farest reachest of the fields of North,
from the lands of Kalevala.

Those sung my papa
while making woodworks;
those taught my mom
while making clothes,
me as a kid on the floor
running around at the level of their knees,
as young kid with mouth dirty from milk.

Sampo money making machine did not lack words,
neither did witch woman Louhi lack threads:
Sampo got old from words,
Louhi disappeared in threads,
Vipunen the competitor died of religious songs,
Lemminkäinen soldier to playful games.

There are also other words,
problems I have learned to solve:
taken from the roadside,
copied from the beauty of the undergrowth,
gotten strenght from the style of fallen tree branches,
leraned from the atmosphere of young tree plants,
from everyday life labour,
from everyday problems solved,
as I was herding cattle
as a kid all the days,
on honey ground,
on golden hills,
after a black cow Muurikki,     ("muuri" = wall, "murha" = murder, "murhe" = sorrow, "muu" = other, "-kki" a typical ending in cows' names, "rikki" = broken)
with a multicolour Kimmo cow.     ("kimmota" = to bounce from)

Shivering with cold I learned with the help of religion,  / Shivering from cold taught me wisdom about ways of living,
the beauty of rain taught me poems.
Another hymn was brought by the winds,
and driven by the waves of the sea.
Bird song joined words together,
tree tops formed sentences."

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