Anthology of Estonian Traditional Music

Brother went a-courting,
tried to woe a maiden for himself.
Brother came home again,
put his hat on the table,
and his mittens on the hat,
placed his fingers on the bottom of the sieve,
[while] he himself began to weep over it.

His sweet mother asked him,
his wise father asked him:
“Why are you crying son so young,
why are you crying and wailing?”
“Why shouldn't I cry and wail!
No daughter wants to be my wife,
no red-apron for this son –
mother has too many daughters,
wasters of beads,
wanting more baubles.”

Mother then took her daughters to the water,
carried the wretched ones to the spring,
all the Leenas to the sandy hillocks,
the Marys to the wet sod.
Then a pretty daughter-in-law was brought
and a wife for her dear son.
Mother brought balls of yarn into the room,
threads for the warp onto the table:
“Weave some cloth, pretty daughter-in-law,
and wife of my dear son!”
“Is that why I was brought here
to weave your cloth,
to pound it out paper thin,
to shake the canvas cloth!
Surely I was brought to sit around,
to sit around, to step daintily,
to stride to the sauna,
to step to the granary.”

The daughter-in-law then started to weave
and the wife of the dear son,
one span in two days,
a yard in ten weeks,
a bolt in seven summers.
The cloth died in the smoke,
get tanned in the heat.

The cloth begged me:
“Take me behind the fence,
the shepherds will weave me there,
travellers on the road will move the bobbins,
fire bringers will do it fast!”

Mother went crying to the river,
wailing to the spring,
mother hit the water with her switch,
the spring with a fence post:
“Get up, my daughters, out of the water,
get up, you wretched ones, from the spring,
all you Leenas from under the sandy hillocks,
you Marys from under the wet sod,
get up and weave my cloth,
pound it thin as paper!”

Soon the eldest daughter spoke out,
quickly the youngest daughter:
“Have the pretty daughter-in-law weave
and the wife of your dear son!
The sea fed us, the sea gave us drink,
the sea wed us,
the salmons cut our clothes,
the pikes have given us presents.”