Swan. From the edge of the brown clouds, the sky is so calm, but to the river, a swan will descend, to sing on a summer evening. Pohjolan sang sweetly, Its skies are joyful, Like the day there, I don't remember dozing off on summer nights. Like the shadows there are cool All' the alder, the birches, And the bays are heard-shiny, And the waves are restless. How bliss there is the most merciful to love its Gold, From there faithfulness is most born And there it hugs. Thus from wave to wave Its hymn of praise sounded; And beside his spouse Pian crept, sang like this: Yes, I didn't live a dream I saw every year - But I could love on the waves of the North, I could sing in its summer.
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