And the aspen said astounded,
Answered with its hundred branches:40
"As a boat I should be leaking,
And would only sink beneath you,
For my branches they are hollow.
Thrice already in this summer,
Has a grub my heart devoured,
In my roots a worm has nestled."
Youthful Sampsa Pellervoinen
Wandered further on his journey,
And he wandered, deeply pondering,
In the region to the northward.50
There he found a pine-tree standing,
And its height was full six fathoms,
And he struck it with his hatchet,
On the trunk with axe-blade smote it,
And he spoke the words which follow:
"O thou pine-tree, shall I take thee,
For the boat of Väinämöinen,
And as boatwood for the minstrel?"
But the pine-tree answered quickly,
And it cried in answer loudly,60
"For a boat you cannot use me,
Nor a six-ribbed boat can fashion,
Full of knots you'll find the pine-tree.
Thrice already in this summer,
In my summit croaked a raven,
Croaked a crow among my branches."
Youthful Sampsa Pellervoinen
Further yet pursued his journey,
And he wandered, deeply pondering,
In the region to the southward,70
Till he found an oak-tree standings
Fathoms nine its boughs extended.
And he thus addressed and asked it:
"O thou oak-tree, shall I take thee,
For the keel to make a vessel,
The foundation of a warship?"
And the oak-tree answered wisely,
Answered thus the acorn-bearer:
"Yes, indeed, my wood is suited
For the keel to make a vessel,80
Neither slender 'tis, nor knotted,
For within its substance hollow.
Thrice already in this summer,
In the brightest days of summer,
Through my midst the sunbeams wandered.
On my crown the moon was shining,
In my branches cried the cuckoos.
In my boughs the birds were resting."
Youthful Sampsa Pellervoinen
Took the axe from off his shoulder,90
With his axe he smote the tree-trunk,
With the blade he smote the oak-tree.
Speedily he felled the oak-tree,
And the beauteous tree had fallen.
First he hewed it through the summit,
All the trunk he cleft in pieces,
After this the keel he fashioned,
Planks so many none could count them.
For the vessel of the minstrel,
For the boat of Väinämöinen.100
Then the aged Väinämöinen,
He the great primeval sorcerer,
Fashioned then the boat with wisdom,
Built with magic songs the vessel,
From the fragments of an oak-tree,
Fragments of the shattered oak-tree.