This is the Anthem.
This is the Anthem.
This is the Anthem.

Blind Daughter of Tuonela that I am
Blind Daughter of Louhi that she is
The Beauty that you feel is not what you see
That I see
You are so blind, more blind, than me.

ti kurwa

When you meet a good soul: rejoice. They are rare. The rest, are blind. Instead of joy, you get jealousy. I have dealt with more jealousy in my life than I even understood. Is that weird? Maybe...I just think jealousy is stupid. Because no one is the same.

Or maybe jealousy is for the stupid.

Can't hold my breath from another
You are the imperfect storm.
My feet are falling from the ground. My head up in the clouds from the core. With fainting eyes.

I hate it when our eyes meet. You know when you have peered into a person's soul. Why did they let you in. Just a crack. But they won't open. To you, they are like the air you breathe, it feels like, blood, in your veins, what you see, what you feel, when you are cut, you bleed them...they come pouring out of you. But they won't let you in. They just show that they want you. But do nothing
And you wish you had 1000 babies with them. How dare they speak of such things with you.

LOVITAR - Blind Daughter of Death

"Loviatar, vaimo vanha,
pahin Tuonen tyttäriä,
ilke'in manattaria,
alku kaikille pahoille,
tuhansille turmioille.
Sill' oli muoto mustanlainen,
iho inhon-karvallinen.
Tuopa musta Tuonen tyttö,
ulappalan umpisilmä,
teki tielle vuotehensa,
pahnansa pahalle maalle.
Selin tuulehen makasi,
kaltoin säähän karkeahan,
perin viimahan viluhun,
kohin päivänkoittehesen."

(Elias Lönnrot, Kalevala, 5th Rune, 1849)


"The blind daughter of Tuoni,
Old and wicked witch, Lowyatar
Worst of all the Death-land women
Ugliest of Mana's children
Source of all the host of evils
All the ills and plagues of Northland
Black in heart, and soul, and visage

Evil genius of Lappala
Made her couch along the wayside
On the fields of sin and sorrow
Turned her back upon the East-wind
To the source of stormy weather
To the chilling winds of morning."

(source will be cited)


"A girl there was of Tuonela
an old woman
the worst of Tuoni's daughters
wickedest of death-daughter's
source of all ills
a thousand downfalls;
she had a swarthy face, a
skin of loathsome hue.
Well, that black girl of Tuoni,
the sightless one of the depths,
made her bed upon a road
her litter on evil land
lay with her back to the wind
her side to the rough weather
her rear to the chilly blast.

(source will be cited)


"The girl of death's domain was blind, Lovitar, an old woman
Death's worst daughter, the wickedest daughter of the Abode of the Dead,
source of all evils, of thousands of disasters
She had a very dark coloring, a vile colored skin
That dark girl of Death, the half-blind one of Waste-Land
Made her bed on a pathway, laid her pallet on bad ground
She lay down back to the wind, aslant to the severe wind,
Back to the blasting cold, facing the dawn."

(source will be cited)


Rhyming form of poetry which may date back further than our written record of the Irish language. Its most consistent feature is connective alliteration, where the word or words at the end of one line alliterate with the word or words at the beginning of the next line. This forms a kind of conceptual chain, where the image of one line is shifted to produce the image of the following line. Rosc can be notoriously difficult to translate, as there is a scarcity of verbs, a lax attitude to syntax and many archaic and obscure words preserved in the poetic form. When the poems are taken out of the surrounding prose text, they form a continuous text of their own. It is my belief that the saga was originally contained entirely in this loose verse-form. Poetry tends to preserve older forms of language, which are crystalised by the structure of the poem like insects in amber. As the language of the poems becomes more archaic and obscure, the tellers of the story need to add more and more prose to explain what the poems mean. But they do not abandon the poetic passages, which retain their music and sonorous wholeness. --->