| [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. |