Moonsorrow - Kylän Päässä текст песни

[1]
Kauan sitten kylan paassa syntyi kaksi poikaa,
kaksi perillista sodanjumalan karhuntaljoin verhotun.
Jo kolmen iasta, sanovat, toisiansa alkoivat harjoittaa
ja kun teraksensa yhteen kalahti, saattoi kuulla ukkosen.

Kauan sitten kylan paassa varttui kaksi poikaa,
kaksiko vain typerysta kuolemaa pilkkaamaan?
Ei yksikaan haava viela ollut tehnyt
tehtavaansa
ja siksi kai sita miekasta vihollisen taytyi anoa.

Aina kunnia houkuttaa nuorta kansaa
(ryostoretki merten taa) ja taistelu sitakin enemman.
Varmaan turmaan rientavan tielle
vain toinen hullu uskaltautuu.

[2]
Kun kentta hohkaa karsimysta ja kirveet lentavat,
leikki kanssa kuoleman vain yltyy.
Niin riemukasta lapsien on paita pudottaa
kuunnellessaan sotajoukkoa hurraavaa.

[3]
Usein kaykin vain niin et' vertaisesta tulee alempi.
Tarinan kulku voitoista kaantyy
ja maine ihmisen helposti antaa veljensa unohtaa.

Ylpeys, tuo kavalin tauti paalla maan,
nain on vienyt taas yhden uhrin muassaan.
Kumpi lie se epatto, kilpi alhaalla ja miekka koholla
teilleen mennyt vaiko han joka hautoja kaivaa saa?

Heikompaa voima mik' riepottaa;
kotinsa on iaksi jattanyt tahtoen viela surmata.

Kunniaton moinen tyo.

[English translation:]

[A VILLAGE AWAY]

[1]
Long ago a village away there were born two sons,
two heirs of the god of war dressed in bearskins.
From the age of three, they say, each other they did train
and when their steel did clash thunder could be heard.

Long ago a village away there did grow two sons,
or were they just two fools born to mock their deaths?
Still they hadn't got a wound that would've hurt'd enough
to prevent them from begging such from a foreign blade.

Honour always tempts the young blood
(plundering across the seas) and battles even more.
Into the way of the one rushing to his doom
only another insane dares step.

[2]
When the field emits pain and axes fly about,
play with death is on the increase.
Such a joy for children the dropping of heads is
as long as their army cheers.

[3]
Yet so often equality becomes inferiority.
The course of a story twists at triumphs
and fame so easily lets a man forsake his kin.

Thus pride, that most insidious illness on all earth,
once again has taken its prey.
Which one might be the failure, he who left with a lowered
shield and sword held high or he who has to dig the graves?

Tossed about is the weaker by what force;
his home he has left, gained just more will to slay.
What a disgrace is such work.