Loomine (Paide, viis Peetri)

Village girls, sisters,
village boys, half-brothers,
village women, young women,
put on new robes,
put on the gathered sleeves!
Let’s go to sweep the sea,
to brush the seaside!
Let’s wipe the sweepings into the sea,
brush the shavings into the waves!
Let’s go and look tomorrow,
who’s turned the sweepings.
The holy bird
was looking for a place to nest
on the ten stones of the sea,
the limestone of the coast,
over the world, the wide land,
over the church of the Lynx.
It met three bushes:
one was a blue bush,
the other a red bush,
the third one golden.
It disdained the blue bush,
it disdained the red bush,
it chose the golden one as its favourite.
It started collecting a nest:
collected for a day, then collected for two,
and another couple of days.
It started laying eggs:
it laid for a month, then for laid two,
and another couple of days.
It started hatching the nestlings:
they hatched for a month, then they hatched for two,
and another couple of days.
Once the fledglings grew feathers,
it started hurling them:
it hurled for a month, then it hurled for two,
and another couple of days.
One, it put into the sky as the moon,
the other above the world as the sun,
the third into the fallow as a stone.
That’s what the heavenly father knows,
that’s what the lovely people think,
where these hours are known,
the beloved times thought,
dark meads are measured,
if there’s no stone in the fallow,
no moon in the sky,
no sun above the world.