At the huts of the underworld

Joukahainen, a youthful son
Laplander, a slender fellow
Bore a grudge within his heart
Bitter envy in this bosom

Thus he worked a fiery crossbow
So he shaped a noble bow
And he formed the bow of iron
Overlaid the back with copper

Then the points were to be sharpened
So the arrows then were ready
And his bow was fit for bending

Now, should you bring 'bout Väinämöinen's death
And your arrow let him die
Joy will then fade away from Earth
Songs cannot then be heard again

Elation is way better on Earth
And the music is more cheerful in here
Than somewhere in the land of the dead
At the huts of the Underworld

Long he watched for Väinämöinen
Peering, peeping at the lodges
Sometimes listening in the alleys
Sometimes watching in the meadows

Spanned in haste his mighty crossbow
And he aimed his splendid weapon
At the head of Väinämöinen
Thus to kill Suvantolainen

And then the old Väinämöinen
Fell head over heels in water
Off the back of his blue moose