Dost thou know the lamp that shines in the All-Father’s halls? Just now it is resting; it has gone out. But its reflection still glows through the heavens; and already do the rays of its light turn round towards the East, whence, in its full might, it will ere long salute the whole of Creation.
Dost thou know the hand that receives the sun and leads it to its rest when it has run its course? Or the hand that rekindles it when it has gone out, and sends it forth again on its road through the heavens?
The All-Father had two true servants, whom he endowed with eternal youth. And when the lamp had finished its course the first evening, he said to Ämarik:—
“To thy guard, my daughter, do I commit the sinking sun. Quench it, and have a care with the fire, that no hurt come to pass.”
And again, when the time for morning came, he said to Koit:—
“My son, it shall be thy concern to light the lamp and make it ready for a new journey.”
Both did their duty faithfully, and on no one day was the lamp wanting from the vault of heaven. And when in winter it wanders along the edge of the sky, then it goes out earlier in the afternoon and sets forth later in the morning. And when in spring it awakens flowers and the songs of birds, and when in summer it ripens the fruit with the heat of its beams, then it has but a short time to rest; Ämarik gives it up at once when it is quenched into the hands of Koit, who breathes a new life into it.
The fair time was now come when the flowers open their perfumed cups, and birds and men fill with songs the hollow of Ilmarinen’s tent.[17] Then Koit and Ämarik looked each other too deeply in the eyes, dark as whortle-berries; and when the sun, as it went out, passed from her hand to his, then hand pressed hand, and the lips of the one stirred the lips of the other.
But an eye which ever wakes had marked what was happening in the secrecy of the midnight stillness; and on the morrow the Ancient of Days called them both before him and said:—