"Where the skin is rent asunder,
Let the skin be brought together;
Where the veins have snapped asunder,
Let the veins be knit together;
Where through wounds the blood has issued,
Let the blood again be flowing;
Where the bones have broke to splinters,
Let the bones be fixed together;370
Where the flesh is torn asunder,
Let the flesh be knit together,
Fix it in the right position,
In its right position fix it,
Bone to bone and flesh to flesh fix,
Joint to joint unite thou firmly."
Thus did Lemminkainen's mother
Form the man, and shape the hero
To his former life restore him,
To the form he wore aforetime.380
All the veins had now been counted,
And their ends were knit together,
But as yet the man was speechless,
Nor the child to speak was able.
Then she spoke the words which follow,
And expressed herself in thiswise:
"Whence shall we obtain an ointment,
Whence obtain the drops of honey
That I may anoint the patient
And that I may cure his weakness,390
That the man his speech recovers,
And again his songs is singing?
"O thou bee, thou bird of honey,
King of all the woodland flowerets,
Go thou forth to fetch me honey,
Go thou forth to seek for honey,
Back from Metsola's fair meadows,
Tapiola, for ever cheerful,
From the cup of many a flower.
And the plumes of grasses many,400
As an ointment for the patient,
And to quite restore the sick one."
Then the bee, the bird so active,
Flew away upon his journey,
Forth to Metsola's fair meadows,
Tapiola, for ever cheerful,
Probed the flowers upon the meadows,
With his tongue he sucked the honey
From the tips of six bright flowers,
From the plumes of hundred grasses,410
Then came buzzing loud and louder,
Rushing on his homeward journey,
With his wings all steeped in honey,
And his plumage soaked with nectar.
Then did Lemminkainen's mother,
Take from him the magic ointment,
That she might anoint the patient,
And she thus might cure his weakness,
But from this there came no healing,
And as yet the man was speechless.420
Then she spoke the words which follow:
"O thou bee, my own dear birdling,
Fly thou in a new direction,
Over nine lakes fly thou quickly
Till thou reach a lovely island,
Where the land abounds with honey,
Where is Tuuri's new-built dwelling,
Palvonen's own roofless dwelling.
There is honey in profusion,
There is ointment in perfection,430
Fit to bind the veins together,
And to heal the joints completely.
From the meadow bring this ointment,
And the salve from out the meadow,
For upon the wounds I'll spread it,
And anoint the bruises with it."
Then the bee, that active hero,
Flew again on whirring pinions,
And across nine lakes he travelled,
Half across the tenth he travelled,440
On he flew one day, a second,
And at length upon the third day,
Never on the reeds reposing,
Nor upon a leaf reposing,
Came he to the lovely island,
Where the land abounds with honey,
Till he reached a furious torrent,
And a holy river's whirlpool.
In this spot was cooked the honey,
And the ointment was made ready450
In the little earthen vessels,
In the pretty little kettles,
Kettles of a thumb-size only,
And a finger-tip would fill them.
Then the bee, that active hero,
Gathered honey in the meadow,
And a little time passed over,
Very little time passed over,
When he came on whirring pinions,
Coming with his mission finished,460
In his lap six cups he carried,
Seven upon his back he carried,
Brimming o'er with precious ointment,
With the best of ointment brimming.