(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2Jsr49142k)
Äijö — Värttinä
Village dotard, old idiot
Village dotard, weak in the head
Village dotard, crooked imp
Village dotard, bowlegged
Village dotard, up on the cold hill
Village dotard, a viper on his lap.
Croaks and ambles lonely in the night.
Croaks and ambles with an ember in his hands.
Scorches on his palms, his feet on fire,
All lonely in the night, a tired old devil.
On the cold hill the adders slide around each other,
One high, two low.
The old man’s palm the curving viper bit,
A stinging wound, a load of vile venom.
Old man, alone in the night turns back,
In the stairwell, sits waiting for the viper
Wants to put its wily head on the block,
To axe its slithery neck.
“Snake slither-stealthy, enemy eyeslanted, groundprowler heatherhue, earth your evil incubator; thou knowst evil incubation, earth’s stealthy sireling, from earth sired other serpents, snakes of sibilant shades; Know not thy hue however your hue may be, be thee one hue, dark hue, grey hue, be thee brass or bronze hue— Devil’s biter damned, thou shalt not lay upon my lap, feast on my flesh, you lightningback longtooth lord of lies! Flee to the forest, whisk to the willowstems, slither under sullen stones, sable serpent dive thee deep to dirt. Take the ailment away, your hurt to your horrid home; bring the pain to a battlefield, unleash your evil on the enemy. Better the bite banishes the bad, purify the potent poison, away I say— thou vilest viper, never nose round these acres!
Devil’s biter damned, thou shalt not lay upon my lap, feast on my flesh, you lightningback longtooth lord of lies! Flee to the forest, whisk to the willowstems, slither under sullen stones, sable serpent dive thee deep to dirt!”
Old man heals the devil’s bite
Pours out liquor, washes it with spirits,
Pours tar and heats a smokey sauna,
Conjures smoky charms, sings spells in his hut.
In the village they all wonder;
Wonder about the old man’s twisting, stumbling,
About the nightly croaking from a hunchbacked devil,
About an old man’s struggles, cast the rudest rumors:
“Village dotard, old idiot”
“Village dotard, bowlegged”
Old man, old dotard, weary,
Stronger men could take far less.
–Note: Lyrics patched together from at least four sources, each less accurate than the last, but hopefully evocative! Spellsong lyrics translated here. Further translations here.
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