From the end of tarry rudder,
And this drink were sweeter to me
Than the beer in all our cellars.
Bring me here my war-shirt quickly,
Bring me, too, my mail for battle. 80
I will seek the homes of Pohja,
And o'erthrow the youths of Lapland,
And for gold will ask the people,
And I will demand their silver."

Then said Lemminkainen's mother,
"O my son, my dearest Ahti,
We ourselves have gold in plenty,
Silver plenty in the storeroom.
Only yesterday it happened,
In the early hours of morning, 90
Ploughed the slave a field of vipers,
Full of twining, twisting serpents,
And a chest-lid raised the ploughshare,
And the chest was full of money.
Coins by hundreds there were hidden,
Thousands there were squeezed together,
To our stores the chest was carried,
In the loft we stored it safely."

Said the lively Lemminkainen,
"Nought I care for home-stored treasures. 100
I will win me marks in battle,
Treasures won by far are better,
Than the gold in all our storerooms,
Or the silver found in ploughing.
Bring me here my war-shirt quickly,
Bring me, too, my mail for battle,
I will go to war in Pohja,
To destroy the sons of Lapland.

"There my inclination leads me
And my understanding drives me, 110
And my own ears shall inform me,
And my own eyes show me truly,
If in Pohjola a maiden,
In Pimentola a maiden,
Is not longing for a lover,
For the best of men desirous."

Then said Lemminkainen's mother,
"O my son, my dearest Ahti,
Kyllikki at home is with thee,
Fairest she of all the housewives. 120
Strange it were to see two women
In a bed beside one husband."

Said the lively Lemminkainen,
"Kyllikki has sought the village.
Let her go to all the dances,
Let her sleep in all the houses,
Where the village girls are sporting,
Dancing with unbraided tresses."

Still his mother would dissuade him,
And the aged woman warned him: 130
"Yet beware, my son, and go not
Unto Pohjola's dread homestead,
Destitute of magic knowledge,
Destitute of all experience,
There to meet the youths of Pohja,
And to conquer Lapland's children!
There the Laplanders will sing you,
And the Turja men will thrust you,