[00:52.70] |
Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense |
[00:55.57] |
Who say that music reckon that the kantele |
[01:01.39] |
Was fashioned by a god |
[01:05.33] |
Out of a great pike's shoulders |
[01:08.78] |
From a water-dog's hooked bones: |
[01:18.59] |
|
[01:44.42] |
It was made from the grief |
[01:45.86] |
Moulded from sorrow |
[01:46.92] |
Its belly out of hard days |
[01:49.36] |
Its soundboard from endless woes |
[01:57.17] |
Its strings gathered from torments |
[01:59.74] |
And its pegs from other ills |
[02:02.61] |
So it will not play, will not rejoice at all |
[02:06.49] |
Music will not play to please |
[02:09.12] |
Give off the right sort of joy |
[02:10.37] |
For it was fashioned from cares |
[02:11.18] |
Moulded from sorrow. |