Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v2.djvu/172

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And the notes were all discordant,

And the music all was jarring.

In the corner slept a blind man,

By the stove there lay an old man,

And beside the stove he wakened.

From the stove he raised an outcry,

From his couch he grumbled loudly,

And he grumbled, and he mumbled,

“Leave it off, and stop your playing,

Cut it short and finish quickly,

For the noise my ears is bursting,

Through my head the noise is echoing,

And through all my hair I feel it,

For a week you’ve made me sleepless.

“And the harp of Suomi’s people

Cannot really give us pleasure,

Lulls us not to sleep when weary,

Nor to rest does it incline us.

Cast it forth upon the waters,

Sink it down beneath the billows,

Send it back to where it came from,

And the instrument deliver

To the hands of those who made it,

To the fingers which constructed.”

With its tongue the harp made answer,

As the kantele resounded:

“No, I will not sink in water,

Nor will rest beneath the billows,

But will play for a musician,

Play for him who toiled to make me.”

Carefully the harp they carried,

And with greatest care conveyed it

Back to him whose hands had made it,

To the knees of its constructor.