In Lapland everything blooms fast
The land, the grass, the barleys, even the short grown trees (because of the shortness of the summer period)
I have often felt it, I'm feeling heavy
when I look at the history of our people
Why here everything beautiful seems to die out
And the great wither to a low-life
O why do we have so many mentally ill
Why so few players of the Finnish zither?
why men fall dead in here, all around
Just like hay being cut, a wish indeed
Men of ideologies, men of emotions, all decompose
Or in the middle of their vigor they get cut
In other countries the gray beards are alight with fire
In the old you can see the sun of their spirit or the holy ghost
Our babies are born as old men
And a young man is already ready to stroll into his grave
And me then, why do I think about these?
It is a sign of old age, prematurely
Why can't I follow inherited drives
But instead I sigh over the destinies of people
There is only one answer
When you think about it, your spirit descends
So short is the song of a bird, the fun
And the splendor of flowers, other joy
But long is the reign of winter
Only for a moment may the thoughts rest, as if in mid-air
When they again begin a sunny endevour
And leave behind the wintry land of Lapland
O white birds, the guests of Lapland's summer
You great ideologies, I hail thee
O, please stay here, make a nest
Even if you move to Southern lands
O please take a leaf out of the swans' book
They leave every autumn/fall, and returneth every spring
It is peaceful here on our shores
And safe is the slope of a fell/fjeld
Make a flapping sound like the falling of the leaves while you fly though the sky
Do great things, enlighten other countries
But when you know winter (he/she) has taken off
I pray thee, I beg, come back