That smith, God's creature the everlasting craftsman was hammering, was tapping upon the clear stretch of sea. He used his shirt for bellows his breeches for puffing air he set serfs to blow hirelings to work the bellows and himself looked on. They blew a day, another soon they started on a third: the smith looked – a handsome room.
The smith squeezed into the house in the space between two pots where three hooks turned to and fro.
"Come, O little girl, to me!" "No, I will not come to you. Fashion a vault for the sky on which there is no hammer-mark nor trace of where tongs have held."
He forged a vault for the sky and there was no hammer-mark nor trace of where tongs had held.
"Come, O little girl, to me!" "No, I will not come to you. Shoot a star down from the sky without using your right hand without using your left thumb!"
The smith, God's creature shot a star down from the sky without using his right hand without using his left thumb.
"Come, O little girl, to me!" "No, I will not come to you. Kill the wife you have wedded the mistress you have brought home kill the children you have had!"
The smith, God's creature killed the wife he had wedded the mistress he had brought home kill the children he had had.
"Come, O little girl, to me!" "No, I will not come to you: you have killed your wedded wife the mistress you had brought home and you will want to kill me."
The smith wrung his hands: "Poor me I have done an evil thing I have fallen for a whore for an evil woman's whim: I have killed my wedded wife!"
Finnish Folk Poetry: An Anthology in Finnish and English Edited and translated by Matti Kuusi, Keith Bosley, Michael Branch