I must be out of my mind as I hear you call
My name is even though I can't see you anywhere

Surely this feeling must be coming from something
Someone gave me yesterday as I searched for you

And I hear you call
I hear you call my name
But when I turn around
There's nothing to be found

I must be dreaming a dream of a lunatic
My fingers taste like some strawberry ice-cream

I hear you call my name but I don't think it's
The same I heard you whisper in my ear

The Devils weds a widow
Death another's leftovers
Better to lie on a willows
Rest on alder boughs
Then upon a widow's bed
On a used woman's pillow
Sweeter the side of a fence
Then a widow's flank

Softer the side of a grove
Than a widow's beside is

The Devil weds a widow
The grave one twice wed
A widow's hand is rougher
Than a dry spruce bough
With which she strikes the playful
Grabs the one who laughs
A widow has had her games
And spent a merry evening

The islander slips into hiding
And takes to his heels
Out of dark Northland
The murky house of Sara
He whirled out of doors as snow
Arrives as smoke in the yard
To flee from bad deeds

There he had to become someone else
He must change his shape
As an eagle he swept up
Wanted to soar heavenward
The sun burnt his cheeks
The moon lit his brows

Where have you been,where have you been
my son, my merry son?
On the seashore, on the seashore
mother, my darling one.

And what have you been doing there
my son, my merry son?
I have been watering my horse
mother, my darling one.

Why is there blood upon your feet
my son, my merry son?
My horse stamped with its iron shoe
mother, my darling one.

Why there is blood upon your sword
my son,my merry son?
I have stabbed my brother to death
mother, my darling one.

What now of you, where will you go
my son, my wretched son?
To other lands to foreign lands
my dame, my darling one.

When will you be returning home
my son, my wretched son?
When all the world to judgement comes
my dame, my darling one.

Better it would be for me
And better it would have been
Had I not been born, not grown
Not been brought into the world
Not had to come to this earth
Not been suckled for the world

If I'd died a three-night-old
Been lost in my swaddling hand
I'd have needed but a span of doth
A span more of wood,
But a cubit of goof earth
Two words from the priest
Three verses from the cantor
One clang from the bell

I have a good mind
Take into my head
To start of singing
Began reciting

We seldom get together
And meet each other
On these poor borders
The luckless lands of the north

Those words we have got
From the North's furthest fields,
From the heaths of Kalevala

Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense
Who say that music reckon that the kantele
Was fashioned by a god
Out of a great pike's shoulders
>From a water-dog's hooked bones:
It was made from the grief
Moulded from sorrow

Its belly out of hard days
Its soundboard from endless woes
Its strings gathered from torments
And its pegs from other ills

So it will not play, will not rejoice at all
Music will not play to please
Give off the right sort of joy
For it was fashioned from cares
Moulded from sorrow.

In the darkness I will shine, cast no shadows, not define
I walk on water, float on air, there's no other to compare
I have this fascination, no cause for deviation
It's called levitation

There's no cause to start and scream, nor rub your eyes,
This is no dream

Although I sit upon this chair, I rise and float up in the air
I have this fascination, no cause for deviation
It's called levitation
Magnetic force, repel-attract, once it starts, there's no turning back
I offer you this chance to learn, take it now there's no return

A bird flew out of Lapland
An eagle from the North East

One wing ruffled the water
And the other swept the sky
It's tail skimmed the sea

It flutters, it glides
It looks, it turns round

"Why, man are you in the sea
Fellow, among the billows?"

This is how the lucky feel
How the blessed think
Like daybreak in spring
The sun on a spring morning

But how do I feel
In my gloomy depths?

Like the flat brink of a cloud
Like a dark night in autumn
A black winter day
No, darker than that
Gloomier than an autumn night