"Suvetar, the best of women,
Etelätär, Nature's old one,
Spread thou out thy robe of softness,
And do thou spread out thy apron, 100
As a covering for my cattle,
For the hiding of the small ones,
That no ill winds blow upon them,
Nor an evil rain fall on them.
"Do thou guard my flock from evil,
Guard from harm upon the pathways,
And upon the quaking marshes,
Where the surface all is shifting,
Where the marsh is always moving,
And the depths below are shaking, 110
That they come not into danger,
Nor may fall in any evil,
That no hoof in swamp is twisted,
Nor may slip among the marshes,
Save when Jumala perceives it,
'Gainst the will of him, the Holy.
"Fetch the cow-horn from a distance,
Fetch it from the midst of heaven,
Bring the mead-horn down from heaven,
Let the honey-horn be sounded. 120
Blow into the horn then strongly,
And repeat the tunes resounding,
Blow then flowers upon the hummocks,
Blow then fair the heathland's borders,
Make the meadow's borders lovely,
And the forest borders charming,
Borders of the marshes fertile,
Of the springs the borders rolling.
"Then give fodder to my cattle,
Give the cattle food sufficient, 130
Give them food of honey-sweetness,
Give them drink as sweet as honey,
Feed them now with hay all golden,
And the heads of silvery grasses,
From the springs of all the sweetest,
From the streams that flow most swiftly,
From the swiftly-rushing torrents,
From the swiftly-running rivers,
From the hills all golden-shining,
And from out the silvery meadows. 140
"Dig them also wells all golden
Upon both sides of the pastures,
That the herd may drink the water,
And the sweet juice then may trickle
Down into their teeming udders,
Down into their swelling udders,
That the veins may all be moving,
And the milk may flow in rivers,
And the streams of milk be loosened,
And may foam the milky torrents, 150
And the milk-streams may be silent,
And the milk-streams may be swollen,
And the milk be always flowing,
And the stream be always dropping,
Down upon the greenest haycocks,
And no evil fingers guide it;
That no milk may flow to Mana,
Nor upon the ground be wasted.
"There are many who are wicked,
And who send the milk to Mana, 160
And upon the ground who waste it,
Give the cattle's yield to others.
They are few, but they are skilful
Who can bring the milk from Mana,
Sourest milk from village storage,
And when new from other quarters.
"Never has indeed my mother
Sought for counsel in the village,
Brought it from another household;
But she fetched her milk from Mana, 170
Sour milk brought from those who stored it,
And fresh milk obtained from others;
Had the milk from distance carried,
Had it fetched from distant regions,
Fetched the milk from realms of Tuoni,
'Neath the earth in Mana's kingdom.
Secretly at night they brought it,
And in murky places hid it,
That the wicked should not hear it,
Nor the worthless ones should know it, 180
Nor bad hay should fall into it,
And it should be saved from spoiling.
"Thus my mother always told me
In the very words which follow:
'Where has gone the yield of cattle,
Whither has the milk now vanished?
Has it been conveyed to strangers,
Carried to the village storehouse,
In the laps of beggar-wenches,
In the arms of those who envy, 190
Or among the trees been carried,
And been lost amid the forest,
And been scattered in the woodlands,
Or been lost upon the heathlands?
"'But no milk shall go to Mana,
Nor the yield of cows to strangers,
In the laps of beggar-wenches,
In the arms of those who envy,
Nor among the trees be carried,
Nor be lost amid the forest, 200
Nor be scattered in the woodlands
Nor be lost upon the heathlands.
In the house the milk is useful,
And at all times it is needed;
In the house there waits the mistress,
In her hand the wooden milk-pail.'
"Suvetar, the best of women,
Etelätär, Nature's old one,
Go and fodder my Syötikki,
Give thou drink to my Juotikki, 210
Milk confer upon Hermikki,
And fresh fodder give Tuorikki,
Give thou milk unto Mairikki,
Put fresh milk into the cowhouse,
From the heads of brightest herbage,
And the reeds of all the forest,
From the lovely earth up-springing,
From the hillocks rich in honey,
From the sweetest meadow-grasses,
And the berry-bearing regions, 220
From the goddess of the heather,
And the nymph who tends the grasses,
And the milkmaid of the cloudlets,
And the maid in midst of heaven.
Give the cows their milk-filled udders
Always filled to overflowing,
To be milked by dwarfish women,
That a little girl may milk them.