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Trickling forth from out the marshes,

Nor to leak like boats when damaged.

“Therefore, dear one, cease thy flowing,

Crimson Blood, drip down no longer,

Not impeded, but contented.

Dry were once the Falls of Tyrja,

Likewise Tuonela’s dread river,

Dry the lake and dry the heaven,

In the mighty droughts of summer,

In the evil times of bush-fires.

“If thou wilt not yet obey me,

Still I know another method,

And resort to fresh enchantments:

And I call for Hiisi’s caldron,

And will boil the blood within it

All the blood that forth has issued,

So that not a drop escapes me,

That the red blood flows no longer,

Nor the blood to earth drops downward,

And the blood no more may issue.

“But if manly strength has failed me,

Nor is Ukko’s son a hero,

Who can stop this inundation,

Stem the swift arterial torrent,

Thou our Father in the heavens,

Jumala, the clouds who rulest,

Thou hast manly strength sufficient,

Thou thyself the mighty hero,

Who shall close the blood’s wide gateway,

And shall stem the blood escaping.

“Ukko, O thou great Creator,

Jumala, aloft in heaven,

Hither come where thou art needed,

Hither come where we implore thee,

Press thy mighty hands upon it,

Press thy mighty thumbs upon it,

And the painful wound close firmly,

And the door whence comes the evil,

Spread the tender leaves upon it,

Leaves of golden water-lily,