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That the posts be raised to guide us,

And the trees be blazed before us,

For the most heroic people,

For the manly race of heroes.

“Grant, O Jumala, for ever,

Grant again, O good Creator,

That may sound the horn of Tapio,

And the forest-pipe may whistle

Even in this little courtyard,

Even in this narrow homestead.

“In the day may we be playing,

And at eventide rejoicing,

In this firm and solid country,

In the wide expanse of Suomi,

With the young who now are growing,

With the rising generation.”

, old and steadfast,

On his kantele was playing,

Long he played, and long was singing,

And was ever full of gladness.

In the moon’s house heard they playing,

Came delight to the sun’s window,

And the moon came from his dwelling,

Standing on a crooked birch-tree,