Of girls writing poems in school

 See https://learntalents3.blogspot.com/2024/07/the-views-of-girls-or-of-some-girls.html 

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Of girls' understanding I have written in connection with the comparison of women and men. Come to think of it, some of Eino Leino's famous poems could have been written in school by some 10 to 12 years old gilr, with mechanical dynamics estimated, some fine old times' values seen partly in their light, the picture of the world tried to fill with general civiliced wisdom of higly valyed things, keeping wusdom of lufe of feelings and trying to form a picture of the dynsmucs of social relations and of how the lives of individuals go, filling the picture with the suppirt of the wisdom of the nature whete it touches people and so there maybe us something worth paying attentiln to in it, something to build upon. 

"When my woman left

I did not get, my dear woman,
any other souvenir from you,
than only your foot print left on my home shore -
took the waves that too from me already."

Eino Leino  (My translation)

"   Come to think of it, my father had a nice way of skiing in the forests in the winter, resembling some Eino Leino's poems, but I guess such is some traditional wisdom and he had good skills of recreation outdoors in the winter.

"I ski the snow covers leisurely slowly, (just a few steps, then  stopping for a moment to look at the landscape, the snowy beauty of trees etc, gliding down a slight hill, a few steps and looking around, maybe changing route,...)

Wind tosses snow.

Mostly it is as if travelling against the wind and not so much like being carried along the wind. 

..."

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"  "Grave song

Restless is the river and waves roll,
sea alone is great and sea lovely.
Sleep river in the arms of the sea.

Wind wanders and leaf flies.
Happy the one who was in time in a valley.
Sleep leaf in the arms of the valley.

When the day rises, the star fades away.
One does not fade away for forever, the one who left from life.
Sleep star in the arms of the day."

Eino leino (My translation)

* * * * *

I used to like poems at some point as a child, maybe preteen. I tried to learn to understand how to make such wise poems. Of this poem I think I thought the following: 

I thought the idea was to make a poem about death, not about waking. So if someone is in pain or ill or the like, one is when politely at a distance saying it without hurting feelings, restless, and the river too may refer to trouble, and waves to supposed sexual relations going to that direction. If one then is adviced toward something but taken away one's own power in comparison, and adviced also to trust by feelings, then one is likely to disappear to it, be it death or one's own kind of lufe otherwise, anyway disappearing from the former environment. 

If someone worries about such, one can say that it is good to let things go in natural ways, so there is less pain and other troubles in the world. In a way one has oneself made the choices in life which make one typical to those areas of life and types, to which one has a liking, choosing such freewillingly always, out of likkng such areas of life. So in a way it is good that one lives just such type of life, even if it may be short or wandering away to other districts. 

When the day rises, the star is no longer the brightest but is anyway enjoying what one spoke for, besides such are periodic situations, so good to adapt to each kind of situation, noticing that death is different. And if one is tuned atmospherically to each kind of situation, maybe one knows how to continue to lufe after death. Similarly, old social relations may distance themselves but yet their professions may keep up the society and the world.

As far as I understood, the poem was not made for the deceased, but instead for the somewhat mourning relatives etc who want to understand by thinking for a while what such things like someone's death are like, why and when those happen and how to oneself avoid such in one's own life. "

"The Song of the Sage Väinämöinen



There aren't many joys given to a human child:
One the joy of spring
and another of summer
and third of high, clear autumn's joy.
Plough, saw,
harvest,
rest at last in peace from labour.


There aren't many sorrows given to a human child:
One a sorrow of one's heart,
another worry of living,
and third of high, strict death's sorrow.
A friend betrays,
life leaves you,
magic is hero's only work and enthusiasm.

Why would sing I, to whom kantele was given,
other joys
and other sorrows?
I cannot count the stars of the sky,
neither the fishes of the sea,
not the flowers of the grasses.
So I sing of what a human is given to sing about.


Men should not sing knowledge, skills,
not bring forth them.
A hero is allowed
to sing only, how years change and weeks,
how sparks get lighted
and dimmen away again
and how goes the law of death and life.

All else is just glimmering of the sky,
fakegold,
splash of the waves.
A hero ought to sing like the sea,
as great, holy,
something to be afraid of,
tender like the resting night over the lands.

There are many songs, also many men of songs.
There is one song
above the others:
humans' ideal's, spirit's strict song.
Peoples disappear,
what does not disappear
is the might sung by a great one knowing the soul of one's people."

Eino Leino (My translation)

"I wander the paths of the forest

I wander the paths of the forest
on a summer evening thinking deeply by myself
and my chest enlargens of joy
and I sing, just sing.

There in the lush woods under a hill
it was strange a moment ago
so slight, wonderful
under the green leaves of trees.

I, a man, only know it,
only me and somebody else
and the lush wood's loving bird
and a tree in flower spreading it's scent."

Eino Leino (My translation)

"Nocturne

Dark wheat bird's song in my ears,
above the wheat seeds full moon;
summer nights happiness is mine,
to a mist dresses themselves the valleys.
I am not joyful, I am not sad or sighing;
but bring to me forest's dark colours,
the red of the clouds to which day vanishes,
faraway sight of a windy hill that sleeps,
the scent of tiny pink flowers and the shadows of lakes;
of these I weave my heart's song.

To you I sing miss, summer grass,
my heart's great silence,
my religion, sing as melodies,
an oak leaves head decoration lush, new.
I am no longer tracing vanishing fake lights,
in my hand happiness's gold,
life's sphere around me gets smaller;
time stops, wind indicator sleeps;
in my front a twilighty road
leads to an unfamiliar cottage."

Eino Leino (My translation)

* * *

So what is it that suvh is called nonsdnse, and girls attacked, and attacked, attacked. And boys benefitting from what they have not cared for, cultivated, understood, just liars only getting the same benefits, unwise people acting getting the place of women's wisdlm? 

" Elegia 

(I translate very freely:)

Left behind is youth - like a flowing river.
Already grey threads - sets life's golden handiwork.
I reach for the present moment -
life's joy does not come from pleasant company or wine.

Left behind in time - my strenght's proud days.
The love of my spirit - in ancient times.
I rose from the pit. - I doubt I can fall again?
The wish of all: painless moments.

We know: peace in the grave is allowed us.
Seeker does not find comforting rest,
cool wind speaks, sun is obstructed from sight by storm,
a red line is left: a forceless longing for beauty.

Drown in the sea - my dreams' hills in flower.
I am a poor man: expensive are the costs of songs.
I gave my all, I had the forces to be active - for a while,
the loves f my dreams I paid by my mind's sorrow.

I am exhausted - oh, to the roots of my heart!
Was I given too much - life's load?
Or am I one of those wo have the will but not strenght?
My victory - empty, the results of my work - my conscience finds fault in them.

So in the end - were without a good reason born, difficulties,
broken chains - burned, loved ships?
Now already did I fall - when my all was needed?
I was solidified to ice - when my wound got a scar?

Hopeless fight - against heaven's powers!
Kannel sings - song does not comfort it's child.
Frost night speaks - tune sings - with collapsing wings.
To the peace of my pit - like a dying beast I sneak.


Eino Leino   ( My nonliteral translation)


This poem is a favourite of the elderly and they copy a lot from it, I think, since in Finnish it is very impressive, song like. I added the "-" lines to make it more understandable. I did not like the fact that while reaching for secrecy it mixes the skills brought by experience with things going poorly It is fact that most people have great potential and sometimes hardships make a break in the habits and give us a rise toward higher talent if just the advices are right. But on the other hand it aren't good to give an impression that great skill due to experience and reaching for good quality, would somehow usually connect to great misfortune. I guess that some of the typical errors of the lderly come from this poem, so I replaced "In vain, in vain, I grasp the moment" by "I reach for the present moment" which is a cure and not the problem like the first one: one should not let good years pass one by without living them.

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But thinking of poems and of learning from them, it is important to understand what is written vased on a final ready holistic view, and what is written by a rational child when still building one's picture of the world with the help of school's literature classes. 

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